Everybody Wants To Rule The World!
by PseudonymousEntity
Summary: We do stupid things when we're angry...like wandering the Chamber of Secrets alone in the middle of the night. Mistakes like this are easier to hide when they aren't following you around, whispering advice and invading your personal space. InvoluntaryApprentice!Harry. A basilisk wasn't the only thing Hogwarts kept locked away for centuries.
1. Chapter 1

**~*** PSEU ***~**

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 **Pseudonymous Entity : Rise!**

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 _"I will burn...I will burn for you...with fire and fury."_

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 **Summary:** "Do we have a deal?" A basilisk wasn't the only thing Hogwarts kept locked away for centuries. There is a secret hidden within the Chamber that is darker than blood. A fourteen year old savior, angry and desperate to survive the TriWizard Tournament, just found it. Revolution. Anarchy. Morally ambiguous. Survivor!Harry.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, and...

 **Warnings:** Morally Ambiguous. I can provide further warnings if necessary, feel free to suggest them and I shall take them into consideration.

 **Contains:** Questionable Alliances, Magical Theory, Political Maneuvering, Conspiracy, Blatant Manipulation, Unexpected Backstabbing...

 **AN:** Originally this was a one shot written for a contest. It was a one shot that I tentatively thought to write out into a story at some point. It became something much more than that. I was drawn into what I started beyond the requirement and it took on a life - and possibility- of its own. I saw where I could take this. I could go so much farther than before. While I have never been one to shy away from subjects that me personally uncomfortable, I have never dared to push it so far in any of my stories. Always holding back just a bit. With this though. I could see it. Where it could go. What I could do. And I was excited. So I posted it and in the background while writing updates for my other stories I had this one. I write out ideas for it. Information. Where precisely I wanted to be headed. And now I have rewritten the first chapter and present it to you as the start of its own full length story. The updates for this may be longer in between than my other stories for how long the chapters are. I hope that you all will bare with me.

 **ANx2:** The original one shot is still up if you would like to read it. It was called Darker Than Blood.

 **ANx3:** Thoughts, Comments, Questions, Theories, Guesses and Limericks always appreciated.

Obnoxiously long AN done...

 **Ever Yours, PSEU**

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 _ **"** Like a hand grenade thrown in a hurricane **,** spinning in chaos trying to escape the flame_

 _Yesterday is gone faster than the blast of a car bomb_

 _And when scars heal the pain passes **,** as hope burns we rise from the ashes_

 _Darkness fades away and the light shines on a brave new day_

 _Our future's here and now **;** here comes the countdown_

 _Sound it off this is the call **,** rise in revolution_

 _It's our time to change it all **,** rise in revolution_

 _Unite and fight to make a better life_

 _Everybody one for all, sound off **;** This is the call_

 _Tonight we rise **(** RISE **!)** Tonight we fight **(** RISE **!)**_

 _Never give up_

 _Rise **!** Rise **!** Rise in revolution_

 _Rise **!"** -Skillet_

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 **Chapter One: The Beginning**

Let them be angry.

Harry sat on the damp floor of an abandoned washroom. The walls and the stone tiles of the floor glistened with a wetness that never quite managed to go away. A mirror decorated with build up and condensation hung upon the wall to his right. Below it three sinks stood. Two of them leaked, water dropping from them into the half filled basin below like a metronome. No sign of the spirit which often inhabited the room. She must be off in some other bathroom today. He unfolded his legs and pushed them out in front of him, ignoring the splash of water from one of many puddles littering the floor. Being there alone was all the better for Harry. The Gryffindor tilted himself to the side a bit and reached a hand into the pocket of his slacks. He retrieved a brownie wrapped in some napkins. The only thing he bothered grabbing from the impromptu party the tower was throwing in his honour. Harry nibbled at it without really tasting it. Chewy and soft. It would have been enjoyable if he were in the mood for enjoyment.

The raven haired wizard began to fold one of his napkins into a crane.

Why was Ron jealous?

Harry pondered this for the fourth or perhaps fifth time that night. Trying to justify his friend's behaviour and failing to do. Harry knew that often if you have to go out of your way to validate something someone -or even yourself- does or says then they probably shouldn't be doing or have done it. It was your subconscious way of pointing out to yourself that something was right. The red head said he was upset Harry didn't take him to put his name in as well. But no that wasn't enough for him to be this upset. Disappointed that he wasn't chosen. More specifically perhaps...that he missed a chance to be chosen over Harry. To be better than him.

He set the finished crane carefully in a puddle, letting it float. Harry's hand reached for another napkin and began to fold it. Cranes were the only thing he knew how to make so another crane it would be.

The strength of his friend's anger and jealousy towards him troubled Harry. Was it just that strong of a reaction or had Ron been holding it in for so long that it came out in a burst? Harry swallowed the last bit of brownie in his mouth hard. His throat hurt. How could you harbor such negative feelings for someone else and still call yourself their friend? Shouldn't Ron have mentioned something? But no. No, he'd known. Harry knew. It was his eyes or the way he said the things he said sometimes without thinking. He'd known Ron was jealous of him at times. It was why he never brought the boy down to his vaults with him or even offered to. Why he purposefully avoided bring attention to his new robes or new books. He'd known. Harry had known and he had ignored it. Hoping maybe that it would go away on its own. That Ron would get over it. That it wouldn't have gotten to this point.

I don't know why I care.

Harry fixed a corner, smoothing out a wrinkle before setting the crane down to join the other. One more and he'd have a set of three. One for Ron, one for Hermione, one for...

Why did he have to apologize? Be understanding. Patient. They expected him to be. Hermione left him after assuring him she did not think he entered himself in the tournament to see to Ron- and after extracting a promise from Harry that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Harry hadn't promised anything -or even responded- but she'd taken his silence as agreement and gone to find Ron. To calm him down. Allow him to vent his insecurities. Help him to realize he was wrong to take them out on Harry. And Harry? Left to his own devices. To pretend he was pleased in the face of his fellow Gryffindors, the tower much excited to have a member of their house competing. He was left to smile and act assured and confident when he felt like screaming. Or crying. Or both.

The last crane sat in the palms of his hand. He stared at it. With a short waved it animated, lifting it's wings up and down in the parody of flight. His hands were shaking a bit he noticed in a detached way. He probably shouldn't be here.

Harry was frightened. He was frightened but he didn't get to be frightened. Not when he chased after the stone. Not when he faced down a basilisk below this very floor. Not when stood between his friends and a murderer. Not even when he fled through the woods at the world cup in a sea of other, frightened people. Even then he had to seem as if he had it together. That he had a plan or was confident he would get through whatever was happening. It wasn't true. He never knew if he would be able to do what he set out to. He was often scared, unsure, close to turning back. Harry was a child yet. If not has childlike mentally and emotionally as was proper. Still, he was the same age them. Younger even. Couldn't he be weak? Just once. Couldn't someone comfort him? Protect him. Save _him._ Or was that selfish?

I was better off alone.

Harry's hands curled into fists, crumpling the crane still within them. The paper bird gave a startled squeaked that was quickly silenced. He stood and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a wet thwack, rolling over twice to the edge of the puddle the other two floated in. Neither bird looked its way.

Couldn't he be angry for a little while? Just for a little while he would like to feel sorry for himself. Angry for the situations he found himself in. At the world for placing him in them, to begin with. At the adults for never being there to do the adulting and leaving it to him when he could hardly handle smiling day to day let alone pretending he was braver than he felt and calmer than he felt and more put together than he was. Harry's childhood was hardly the case study of a well developed, emotionally stable young person. If anything they were all lucky. Imagine what he could have done the last time he was here if he hadn't felt quite so _accommodating_

Ginny did. She sometimes jumped if he came up to her from behind. Harry would catch her giving him considering looks. As if she were comparing the two of them in her head. The future Dark Lord and The Boy Who Lived. They both found this place refuge. Where they wouldn't have to worry what the world thought of them. Where they could get even with them if they chose. But no. Harry made his choice the moment he let Tom control the basilisk. He didn't even try to convince the sixteen-year-old not to kill him. He didn't try to bargain or compromise. Almost as if...he wanted the basilisk to catch him. He wanted Riddle to get him. He wanted to be finished with it all. No. That was stupid. He was fine. He was always fine.

Except he really, really wasn't.

Do it. Just do it.

 _"Open."_

Stone on stone grinding and groaning answered his call. Harry's heart skipped a couple beats. Was he really doing this? Was that fear or excitement? He stood there breathing in the rush of air that smelled like brine. Adrenaline. Green eyes stared down the whole in the ground that wasn't there moments before. Did this count as jumping down the rabbit hole if he'd already done it? Or was it one of those moments where the intentions...the motivation meant everything. Harry didn't have ulterior motives. He just wanted to get away. From everything.

Now.

Harry jumped. This time, he slid down on his feet rather than sliding through on his back. This was just as exciting but a lot cleaner. His knees were bent, head ducked, arms out. He jolted back in forth, legs sliding apart at times and almost too close at others. His fingers inches from the slick sides of the tunnel. He whipped along faster than his eyes could keep up with. Harry considered trying to get to his original position of flailing wildly on his back as it seemed a hell of a lot safer. He was very aware he could snap his ankle at any moment. Or his neck if he leaned up too far. The end came into sight, Harry's legs tense and sprang. The raven haired teen landed amongst the mud and strewn animal parts mixed with various unidentified bits decorating the floor. A macabre sort of silt. Cracking and creaking bones echoed ominously in the entry chamber. Harry remembered the first time he came down here Ron had shuddered with nearly every step he took.

But there wasn't anything to be afraid of. He turned and began down the path. What could he meet here that he wasn't prepared for? Giant snake? Been there. Dark Lord? Done that. The life draining spirit had, of course, disappeared when he pierced its diary with a fang from the very basilisk it set to kill him. He could appreciate the irony in that. An odd pang followed the thought. He really was alone now. Riddle had to be taken care of. Dumbledore wouldn't have let the boy walk out of Hogwarts even if he managed to regain a body in a fashion that didn't include another being losing their life. It was comforting. In a way he would never admit to his friends. Comforting to have had for only a short time someone who understood. How could they relate, in all honesty? How? They didn't know what it was like to grow up with people who hated him. Feared him. Wishing yourself anywhere else. _Hating_ them. Doing everything you could to get their attention and always being rejected. Then to find out to you were special and come to a magical world where even more labels were thrown at you. Where you were judged again. To be feared for something you couldn't help. Parseltongue wasn't something he went out searching for. He was born with it. It was a part of him and they hated and feared it and even though he knew it was prejudice from years and years ago it still stung. Harry couldn't cut it off to appease them. He could only pretend it wasn't there. That all the pieces of him they might not like weren't there at all.

The biggest different between him and Tom, Harry reflected, was that even Dumbledore believed Harry's pretending.

Now he was alone and he felt sorry for it.

Harry paused and looked over his shoulder. How on earth was he to get back out? The last time he'd had a conveniently present Phoenix. He couldn't exactly call for Fawkes when no one was to know he was there. A little late to think of that, wasn't it? Harry turned back with a growl and stomped up to the divider at the other end. He didn't care right now. He would figure it out later. With a quick hiss, the cylindrical wall uncurled and parted. Harry slipped through into a larger passage. At the end, it would lead to the main chamber housing the statue of Slytherin. From that very statue came the basilisk when Riddle called for it. He stopped there, green eyes sliding over the room. The Chamber of Secrets. That was plural you know. So what else might have been here? The snake guarded it surely and kept its self hidden away. There must be more. You would think so. Harry didn't get the chance to ask Riddle what with attempting to outrun his pet at the time. He grinned. Imagine the look on the sixteen-year-olds face if little Harry Potter started asking him things like that rather than run off from the snake screaming. Would the teenage dark lord have wondered if there was something wrong with him? Harry often did. If there was something wrong with himself.

Secrets. He was thinking about secrets.

Well if there wasn't anyone around to tell him he would just have top find them himself. Tom managed it. He figured out the right thing to say and Hell he found the damn place. Let's see if their similarities extended to abilities to find hidden things. Harry didn't think finding the room leading to the stone's obstacle course counted as he'd found it quite by accident.

He began exploring the chamber and the many smaller tunnels leading off of it in a mangled maze. Maybe if he was lucky he would find something to help him in this horrid tournament. He valiantly ignored that his luck usually came at a price. He needed something to even it out between him and the seventeen-year-olds. Maybe even something to win. His mind whirled about as the young wizard wandered throughout the chamber. Winning. He hadn't thought about winning it before this moment. Surviving it certainly. But winning. Well. If he had to be in it, he could at least give everyone a show while he was at it. He would find something. A potion. A spell. Something to help him. Harry should have been more studious. Learned more. He was in a magical world. If anything the homework was far more interesting than what he got in the muggle world. Though he could cast a Patronus if they chucked Dementors at them he thought viscously. He'd like to see the other competitors do _that._ Lupin told him even adult wizards had trouble with it.

He wiped his smugness away. That was a horrible thing to think. Still.

Why shouldn't I take advantage of my talents?

Harry combed every inch, every corner and crevice, every statue and carving and faded mural. They were examined, tapped, knocked upon and prodded with his wand. Harry took to randomly speaking in parseltongue hoping he might find a password by accident as he often did. The chamber was as a whole far more interesting than it was his previous visit. Ignoring the attempted murder. Statues and carvings intricately crafted were placed around, featuring unknown -to harry at least- wizards and creatures. A lot of them were etched with runes, Harry didn't recognize most of them only enough to know what they were. He didn't know enough to know if there was anything to it. Hermione would if he asked-

I can do this on my own. I'm not stupid.

Harry leaned against the nearest wall. The smell of brine was curiously lesser down here than at the tunnels opening in the washroom. Why was that? His fingers ran along the carving in the wall behind him, following the grooves. Moss grew along bits of it, soft in contrast to the smooth, hard stone they grew upon.

Riddle figured it out. And the little dark lord used a spoken password. The Marauder's Map the twins gave him used two of them, one to activated it and one to close. The tunnel open with a spoken password as well. Both of those passwords were different than the ones used to get into Gryffindor tower. The one used to get into the other houses were different. They required different things. You had to answer a riddle to get into Ravenclaw common room. Some sort of puzzle for Hufflepuff. Find the right bit of wall for Slytherin.

But the passwords for the chamber and the map. They were different even more so. You had to say exactly what you wanted. You were honest, weren't you? You wanted to do something you shouldn't thus the map revealed its self to you. You wanted the tunnel to open thus it did. A fixed word or phrase that did not change. There were a lot of possibilities now which made it at once both hopeful and more daunting a task. Harry blew out a breath in a hard puff. This may take a while.

It was a good thing he had all weekend. If he was gone everyone would think he was sulking, hiding from the attention or preparing.

All of those assumptions suited Harry.

 **"Open."**

 **"Hello?"**

 **"I'm looking for something."**

 **"I want to know your secret..oh...reveal your secrets! Darn."**

He went through many declarations. Some more creative than others. When he started to get bored Harry tried to do them in a way to entertain himself as well. He shouted some and whispered others. For some, he twirled on one led and for another, he sang it out. A tribute to Fluffy the Cerberus. Harry knocked on carvings while saying some of them and offered to give statues a good cleaning. Could you bribe inanimate objects? Finally, frustrated and agitated and filled up to the brim with dissatisfactions Harry shouted out; _"I SEEK A BLOODY SECRET!"_

To his complete and under disbelief it worked.

He should bottle his luck because it was ridiculous. This was usually the point the spiders turned on them or the professor was a werewolf and it was the full moon and he'd forgotten to take his potion... Well, nothing to do about that now. He would have to put a warning of side effects on the bottle. No one read them anyway so it wasn't his fault if things didn't turn out quite the way they imagined they might. It was magic. Of course, there was more to it than a simple explanation or... He was getting off course.

There just to the right of the statue of Slytherin, the entire wall shimmered, groaned and slid back. It revealed stairs carved into the stone. Narrow and inclined leading up nearly fifty feet to a small platform perhaps the width of his bed in the dorms. His luck was ridiculous he thought to himself once more. As long as he owned it that was what mattered. Almost without a conscious thought his feet began toward the stairs, his footsteps suddenly loud to his ears. Shoes smacking against the damp stone and splashing in the puddles. He stood at the base of the staircase, each stair maybe a foot in length and four inches in width across. He hesitated. This probably wasn't a good idea. If he had Ron and Hermione with him-

This is my adventure.

He placed one foot on the stairs after the other, climbing. Somewhere inside of him his inner Slytherin pieces that almost sorted him to the house warred with themselves. On one hand, this was incredibly reckless. On the other, he was exploring a part of the castle no one else had ever seen. The last person to climb these stairs could have been the founder himself or even Tom Riddle. Albus Dumbledore had never done this. Would never do it. Hermione couldn't have done it. She would never curse for one or go searching for something like this or speak parseltongue even if she was able. Ron's password would be honest if it were I SEEK GLORY than a secret. This was something all his own. And that was addicting. Things no one else had seen. Information no one else would know. Ambition won out to his inner Gryffindor's confused exultation as it'd been pouting in the corner. What was wrong with some adventure?

Harry really needed to stop thinking of himself as multiple people. That just couldn't be healthy in the grander scheme of things.

Right about then he made his first mistake. The fourteen-year-old looked down. Green eyes widened, a foot tripped, his body fell. He was sliding! Harry just managed to cling to the steps with his arms as his legs fell over the side and swung down and against the wall with a hard thud. He dangled. Harry breathed in and out and in. He swallowed, gave a nod and got a better grip.

"Alright, new rule Potter. Never look down." Unable to pull himself up Harry tried to visualize the entire thing as a sort of non-regulation set of monkey bars. He pushed himself back and used his hands to get from one step to the other. He used to do this all of the time. Surely he could do it again? Especially as he had no desire to test his ability to sustain a fall from thirty feet to hard rock flooring. Harry kept his eyes on the next step, getting a rhythm. This one. That one. This one. That one. Another five feet the stairs gave a shudder. He heard a small crash.

"Don't look. Don't look. Just keep going. It's probably not important." Crash. "Damn it all to _Hell_ anyway." Harry looked.

The first few steps at the bottom were committing suicide. Breaking off and falling to the floor in crumbled heaps. It may have become unstable when he fell on it. Not bad though he could just jump the last eight feet. He still had this. It wasn't until he saw the cracks forming in the stairs closer to him he realized where this was going. Crash. Harry swore some more and shook himself out of his denial driven daze. Scrambling Harry looked around for something -anything- he could use to get back onto the staircase. He thought he could make it to the platform. Running was sort of his thing. Harry didn't know if the platform its self would hold if the rest of the staircase went down as it threatened to but he knew he didn't want to be hanging thirty feet from the ground when it finally decided.

His leg banged against something. Chancing it, he let himself hang a bit more and discovered a wall hanging for a torch. Harry tested his weight against it experimentally. It gave out an eerie grinding sound. He grimaced. It would have to do, wouldn't it? Holding his breath Harry put his feet against it and pushed himself up, pulling with his arms. He managed to get himself halfway back on the stairs.

A shudder. A boom. Dust rose into the air.

He glanced to the left warily. The entire lower portion was gone! Terror was an excellent motivator it turns out for Harry found himself clambering to his feet and running up the remaining stairs, skipping three or four at a time. Something he wouldn't have dared if his life wasn't in danger. "Oh God... _oh_ God.." He almost slipped to his -probable- death at one point when he looked over his shoulder to see how much time he had. The answer was not a lot. Heart squeezing in his chest the teen wizard threw himself forward onto the platform as the rest of the staircase went crashing to the floor. The colliding echoes of booms was overwhelming. Harry curled into a ball, eyes shut and hands tight against his ears.

When the clamor ended an even louder silence rose in its place. Harry squinted his eyes open against the dust lingering in the air, to his lashes. He shoved himself to a sitting position, hand sliding in the dust on the stone. He was covered in dust. Harry pulled a sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe the dirt from his face. His glasses -which had fallen at some point and were cracked horribly- were shoved into a pocket to be fixed later. He took a moment to wonder how exactly he was going to get back down. Harry slumped against the wall.

He really, really needed to start thinking things through.

Wasn't that exciting, though?

There was a carving on the wall. Harry's fingers felt it. He scooted forward and turned around. It was a tree of some kind rising up the wall. It was probably taller than Harry if he had been standing. Its roots at the other end of the carving descended beyond the platform reaching toward the ground. Branches and leaves twisted around one another with words barely visible spiraling within the design. Harry traced the grooves of it with his fingertips as he'd done the ones on the walls below. He was no master of art or art's history. He knew it was an incredible bit of art none the less. Harry rubbed at some of the words willing them to make sense. Maybe he could come back with some parchment, lay it on the picture and run a pencil over it to get the design so he could look at in the library.

An uneven edge nicked his thumb, blood smearing across it. A rush of guilt flooded him. No one would see what he had done. He wished hadn't messed up the picture regardless. Harry shifted and rose onto his knees. With a sigh, he pulled down his sleeve over his hand once more. It was already dirty from the dust what harm was a little blood? He would have to think of a cover if he couldn't get himself cleaned before anyone saw him. Assuming he ever made it out of there. Harry looked up and froze, hand hovering in the air. His blood was soaking into the carving. It reminded him so strongly of the events leading to his first time in the chamber it gave him chills. As the blood hit the roots a flash of light sparked out. Golden wiry strings of light began lighting up the roots then traveling up into the branches.

Harry stood warily, backing up. He turned and forced himself to hold still. There wasn't a lot of room for alarmed movement up here. Harry watched the light rising through the trunk, into the branches, into the leaves and the words. It wasn't quite as ominous as a book writing back to you or sucking you inside of it to show you memories in order to manipulate you. Still. This was a bad idea. He knew it when the wall slid aside to reveal a narrow corridor. Harry ought to try to find a way to get someone to rescue him. Or to get out. He should leave and never come back. Or maybe come back with his friends. They wouldn't know what to do. Hermione would.

I don't need them. I can do this on my own. I don't need anybody.

In the end, he couldn't resist. This was a secret even Riddle had not seen. It gave him a rush. A place entirely his own that no one else would ever see, no one else would ever know. He didn't have to share it. The secrets within would be his own alone. Harry shoved his trepidation to walk forward into the unknown. It was dark. And longer that he'd thought, the light from the main chamber fading behind him. Harry kept one hand on the wall beside him to keep himself from getting lost. Eventually, the way ahead grew lighter and the corridor opened into a room that could contain several Great Halls.

What Harry would have noticed first -were he anyone else- was that the library went up several stories from the level he found himself standing on, and down several as well. Or that there was a huge hidden library beneath Hogwarts. What Harry did notice was the lack of dust. Everything was clean/ Not what a normal teenager may have focused on but as Harry grew up with Dursleys and knew a great deal about keep things clean he knew the work that went into maintaining something like this. With his added experience of the wizarding world's obsession with house elves, he came to an unsettling conclusion. Someone -or something- was down here. Or came down here often enough to keep it this way. Did the Hogwarts elves take care of it? If they did why didn't anyone know about it? Why wouldn't they have told them about the giant snake in the other part of the chamber because that was information that could have saved him from being labeled a future Dark lord by the rest of the student body? Why didn't they stop Ginny or try to help Harry when he was fleeing from the basilisk?

It was second year all over again. It put him on edge. Hated by the school. Awful rumours. In the bloody Chamber of Secrets in the dead of night. Seemingly innocent literature lying about. Speaking of _which._

Harry stopped at the end of the level and looked around. There didn't seem to be a way to get to next level either up or down. There must be a way of course. There was always a way. Harry walked back the way he came looking for a pull-down ladder or maybe another carving he could feed his blood into. He blinked when he realized he could no longer locate the tunnel he came in through. The entrance seemed to have been sealed away or covered by the endless bookshelves. Well. This was the Chamber of Secrets, wasn't it? So where the Hell was the secret Slytherin method of getting down?

He glanced over the edges of the shelving looking for designs, carvings, pictures. A clue. Those grooves there. Harry flicked his eyes between them, then he wanted to smack himself in the head. Who ever heard of snakes that liked climbing anyway. Harry leaned around and stuck a foot into one of the grooves, then his other foot. His hands fastened to the grooves that were higher up. Carefully he used them to climb down. As he suspected the grooves took him to the next balcony below. The ladder or stairs were built into the bookcases. Creative. He continued until his shoes hit the ground floor. The experience was far less exciting than the stairs he used coming in for which he was thankful. Having so many books fall on him would probably kill him. Death by literature. Merlin how embarrassing. He wouldn't be able to face his parents in the afterlife if he died in such a way.

It was a different quiet down there. Pressing in on him from all sides. His footsteps were quiet without him intentionally making them so. His voice when he tried speaking -though he did do that quietly. He didn't want to alert anyone to his presence. It was all so muted and compressed.

Was it a spell?

Or his imagination maybe.

Paintings and statues were everywhere down there along with maps of lands he'd never heard of before and globes of various sizes and materials. There were smaller globes on a table Harry thought might be made from a seashell. He felt like he was breaking into an exclusive, expensive museum. His eyes flickered about as he walked noting there weren't as many books down here as there were in upper levels. In fact, there were things with words written on them that were neither books nor scrolls. A pile of tablets near him had words etched into the wax spread over their face. On the other table there lay a sort of accordion folded packet of parchment with ribbons threaded through it. Or it may have been really thin leather or something. He examined those in interest though he refrained from touching anything. Whoever or whatever was keeping this place up wouldn't appreciate an intruder smearing or damaging the objects kept within. They were all obviously well cared for. A brief image of a dragon guarding the 'treasure' room had him both grinning and being even more cautious.

It was the wizarding world and one never knew.

In the middle of the hall, where the floor had paintings and runes and words decorating it without much free space, a necklace or amulet was suspended in the air under a glass jar upon a podium. There wasn't anything placed near to it. Harry thought he heard...whispering. Was someone here? He took more steps toward the glass jar, glancing around him cautiously. The closer he came the more clearly he could hear whispers. It made his skin crawl. An alarm sounded in the back of his mind. He couldn't stop moving toward it. As if he must see it. Know what it was. The edge of the podium just under the jar as words similar to those etched in the tree carving. He still didn't know what they said. Harry tapped a fingernail against the glass. It _chimed_. The hairs on his arms pricked up.

He would have to look up the object. And those words. Maybe there was a scroll or book nearby with its history. Hopefully in English or Latin. Hermione would be drowning in jealousy at the information he had at his fingertips. She'd probably-

This was his secret.

Hermione would never see this place. She could sit and stew and wonder where he found the knowledge he had and Harry would never tell her. She didn't deserve to know. He was the one who wanted to save her from the troll. He was the reason she was alive. The reason Gryffindor tolerated her. It was him. How could she abandon that so easily? Ron wouldn't have gone after her and she would have died. But she cared for him, Harry reminded himself. Hermione cared for Ron. In that way. For whatever reason. And emotions clouded your judgment. He was being spiteful. And it would pass. For now, he let himself be upset.

Harry stood there letting the anger roll over and down and through him. Then he shoved it into a corner of his mind. He'd been doing so well at pretending everything was alright. He knew how she felt. He knew why she chose to go to Ron over him. He had just...expected her to be more understanding. To show him some support before running after Ron. Ron. Harry grew up in a cupboard and he had a higher sense of self-worth than the red head and that was unbelievable sad when you considered Harry thought his name was Freak until he was seven. His best mate's inferiority complex was tiresome. When would he grow up? And the rest of the student body as well. How could they live being so immature and petty all of the time? It had to be exhausting. Was this what normal teenagers were like? Was he the odd one here. The abnormality... They could at least direct it at someone else once in a while. Why did they care so much if he was the fourth champion? Why get so upset? Didn't they realize somewhere in there that he was only a fourth year? _Boy-who-lived_ or not, unless they were going to shoot killing curses at him he was under-prepared and under skilled for such a challenge. It was highly unlikely he would win.

So why act like he kicked the Hufflepuff's puppies?

Idiotic. Flighty. Moronic...

 _"You shouldn't be down here you know."_ Harry about jumped out of his skin. He whirled around to see a man sitting in a chair as if he were holding court. With burgundy eyes and dark hair Harry almost mistook him for an older Tom Riddle come back to finish him. He could tell now that there were differences. In his twenties, dark hair stuck up around his hat though Harry suspected it was intentional as the overall effect was neater than his ever managed to be. The man wore red slacks and a long unbuttoned vest with golden thread. The yellow snake coiled around his left arm was what really made him stand out. That and the velvet top hat. Who wore velvet top hats?

 _"Who are you?_ " Harry asked.

After a beat, his stomach dropped. He'd slipped into parseltongue while staring at the snake. He was about to repeat himself in English, and feeling relieved the man hadn't noticed and freaked out when the man answered him. _"I am the Keeper of the Archives."_ He said it grandly, giving him a mocking half-bow from where he remained seated.

That didn't mean much of anything to Harry. Hermione was the researcher, not him. Then again he was fairly certain he'd have heard of such a person before now if it were common knowledge. And Harry knew he would notice a man walking about in red silk. This must be who was keeping the place tidy. He certainly did a good job of it. Hang on...did he just speak parseltongue? _"You can understand me?"_ Harry was a tad concerned how excited the prospect made him.

 _"I can. I understand many languages. However, I have spoken this one in particular since my birth. I know it very well. I imagine it must have been the same for you? I have yet to come across anyone who learned through a second party speak it as flawlessly as yourself."_

Harry's cheeks flushed, lips widening into a smile. He found someone he could speak parseltongue with and they weren't a dark lord! If anything the man had the snake for conversation while he was down here. A librarian with a hat fetish. He could work with that.

 _"I have always been able to speak this way. I did not realize the name of it or even that I was speaking another language until a few years ago."_ The words flowed out of him. It sounded relieved even to himself. Someone who would understand. _"I could never hear the difference between it and English. Even now I have to concentrate or I'll accidentally speak one when I mean to speak the other. I did it just now, I automatically assumed you speak English and I was terrified what you would do when I realized I spoke parseltongue instead."_

The man's lip pulled upward. Boy? He seemed even younger now. Maybe Percy's age. _"You really shouldn't be down here."_ He repeated. _"And I can't help but wonder how you have managed to find yourself down here in the depths of the school all alone."_ Long fingers stroked his snake, gently unwinding it from his arm.

Harry hesitated. What would he say? He two friends -and wasn't that pathetic all on its own- weren't speaking to him because someone put his name in for a deadly tournament and the now the entire school hated him? Again. Yes, that would be a shining example of a good first impression. Wait why did he even care? Just because he was another parselmouth didn't mean he had to care if he liked him. Only he did. Damn it. Harry wanted to bang his head against a wall.

 _"Or maybe,"_ the other wizard continued after the silence dragged on, _"we could speak of other things. Your large clothing. How thin you are. The dark magic centered on your forehead beneath the rune carved there. Why you were so angry a moment ago..."_

Harry averted his eyes, finding the man's -boy's?- gaze too knowing for his liking. _"You don't know who I am then? You don't recognize me?"_

 _"We've never met."_ With that, the Keeper of the Archives stood fluidly. He walked toward him, his strides long and slow and lazy. A soft smile on his face was inviting enough so Harry didn't understand the chills that curled up his spine when the young man circled behind him, leaving his line of sight. He thought of turning to see him and then refrained. He didn't want to let on how unnerved he was. How his heart sped up, his breaths stuttered when he drew near. It was just because he was here again. Because it was a stranger. That was all.

 _"They left you all on your own little snake speaker. I have to wonder why. Don't they... **want** you?"_ The Keeper's tone of voice shifted. Lower. Quieter. Sweeter. And something unknown that made Harry's skin crawl.

 _"My friends and I aren't really speaking right now."_

The Keeper continued on to another lazy loop around him. _"Are you sure that's what it is? Are you really angry at one another...or are they angry at you? Did one of them side with the other over you? Prefer him to you? Maybe they don't want you around. Perhaps it's all just an excuse to sever ties-"_

 _"They do!"_ He snapped automatically. _"Or at least Hermione does. Ron will...my friend will get over it. He's just jealous."_ Harry realized he probably shouldn't be naming names. He didn't know who this wizard spoke to when he wasn't down here creeping out teenagers. Harry wouldn't want his complaints getting around. That's the last thing he needed.

The Keeper shifted. _"Jealous. Such a lovely word. Jealous..."_ The man/boy drawled. _"His jealousy is enough for him to let you wander alone? To somewhere as dangerous as the Archives? How...irresponsible. **Careless.** "_ He ran his fingers along Harry's too long shirt sleeves as he passed and Harry began to notice they were shrunk to fit his form. He tried valiantly not to blush. Most of the time he assumed everyone thought he wore baggy clothing on purpose as no one had ever called him out on it. It was hard to stay still. In the silence and quiet pressing down on him. The chime from the glass jar still just barely heard echoing through the outer areas of the massive hall. Part of him wanted to run. A louder part of him told him to stay still. If ran he'd be chased. So tried to hold himself still. Tried to keep his breathing even. To act like he didn't feel like he was being hunted.

"They don't know I'm here. He wouldn't have let me come at all if he knew. I left while he was upstairs. Everyone else is either having a party or ignoring me anyway." Why did he tell him no one knew he was here? Harry twisted the ends of his fitted sleeves, left loose at the ends and a bit long. Perhaps the other wizard noticed his habit? That was a lot of noticing. Too much. In too short a space of time.

The Keeper's steps slowed. He stopped in front of him. Red eyes looked him over for a moment, considering him, making opinions Harry wouldn't know. The wizard leaned closer. _"You don't want them here. Either of them. You want to keep this place to yourself. You do not plan to tell them of your discovery."_

 _"I deserve to have space to myself!"_ Harry burst out. His hands curled into fists. How the hell did this guy know any of this? Shivering Harry turned away intending to leave. He couldn't handle this right now. Emotions affected your ability to think logical. They affect your actions. He was letting himself get too emotional. He was too far out of his golden mask. Harry needed to get a grip. To go back to the dorms and go to sleep. Ron might have gotten over by the morning. Hermione would help Harry talk to him if the redhead hadn't.

He shouldn't be here.

 _"Leaving...so soon?"_ The Keeper twirled into his path, long vest swirling around him. The older boy rested hands on Harry's shoulder grinning. He twirled about again, behind Harry, resting a hand on both of his shoulders. _"Why should you go running back to them? Why should you have to be the one to compromise little snake speaker? And why should you have to work to earn their favour, to regain it? Should they not apologize to you? Don't you... **deserve** it?"_ A hand stroked up and down his arm. _"You didn't ask for any of this. I don't think they trust you. I think they underestimate you. Take you for granted."_

Cool breaths caressed his ear. Harry shivered again. Violently. He knew this guy was doing something, wanted something. It was just so hard to focus in the quiet and the whispers, and the necklace was shiny and pretty to look at. The whispers. The whispers vibrated the bones in his skin. He couldn't think straight. Thoughts were so fuzzy.

 _"Yes, they should apologize."_ He heard himself say. _"But they won't. If I let it go Ron will come around eventually and-"_

 _"And then? You will pretend it never happened. He will be The Boy Who Lived's best friend again and you can walk around tense and ready for the next blow up. The next time he will leave you. Wondering if it will be for good this time."_

Harry couldn't catch his breath. Something inside of him twisted as words he so often thought were spoken aloud. His fears laid bare. How could someone who only just met him see through him so completely? It wasn't fair. To spend so much time building up walls and painting on faces to please everyone. No one saw through them. Not even Dumbledore. They all saw what they wanted to see. But this wizard came in and broke through the walls like he hadn't seen them. And Harry let him. _"He won't."_ Harry tried. _"He won't leave again. This hasn't ever happened before."_ He thought he should leave.

 _"Oh but that's not true, love."_ Hands ran down his arms again. _"Do you remember the look in his eyes when you received your father's cloak of invisibility? The way they glimmered when you first spoke to snake in front of him? This jealousy. These doubts. Have always been there. You know this is true my clever young wizard. Are you so desperate for companionship that you would **submit** yourself to a friendship that may be less than worthy?"_

Harry wanted to scream. Or cry. Or break something. It would be so much easier if it wasn't the truth. If it wasn't his own secret opinions and just the murmurings of a stranger who didn't know any better. And he kept answering him. Why wasn't he leaving? Hadn't he been leaving? Harry was sure that was what he decided to do. He wanted to leave, didn't he? Go somewhere safe. Because he wasn't here. He knew he wasn't safe so why was he staying? Anyone else would run off and never look back. Harry wasn't stupid. He'd known the moment he saw The Keeper that coming down here was a mistake. Where were those Slytherin survival instincts? Too wrapped up in ambition and greed Harry feared. And far too aware that running would be fruitless. Oh, what had he done coming here?

 _"I've never had friends before. They like me for who I am. How can I give that up?"_ His voice cracked and he hated it.

 _"Did they like you before or after they knew who you were? Did Ron choose your carriage because there were none open or because he saw someone in worse clothing than himself? I bet the first thing he did was ask you to lift your fringe for him when he realized who you were."_ The Keeper didn't give Harry time to respond which was good as Harry's heart had shoved its self up into his throat. _"I could be your friend. If you let me."_

 _"Why would you do that?"_ Harry rasped. _"What do you want from me?"_

The un-age-define-able wizard lay his chin on the top of Harry's head. The hands on his arms pulling him back against his chest. The hands started their soothing motions once more. _"I rather like you little snake. You are so small and sad. It's adorable."_

A startled laugh broke out of Harry. What an odd thing to say.

 _"I could do more than be your friend. I can show you things. Things you've never seen. Things they wouldn't teach you. They would say you are too young or that you wouldn't understand. That you wouldn't be able to do them."_ The Keep spoke quicker. Excited. _"I haven't had another to talk to, to teach, in so very long. You would let me, wouldn't you? And you could tell me everything I have missed in the world. I haven't had news in a while."_

Harry's eyes looked down at the paintings on the floor, up to the books on the cases, around to the different objects kept within the room. Anything to distract himself from that voice, from those words. He had to keep himself grounded. His eyes locked on the necklace in the glass jar. Another mistake. _"What, what sort of things?"_ He asked. Harry took an involuntary step toward it.

A delighted laugh. The Keeper darted around him. He clapped. _"Oh, so many wonderful things! Where should I start? Would you like to know how to fly without a broom? I can teach you to sail the skies, speak to the stars, see the threads of Fate. I could even,"_ The red-eyed wizard leaned very close, _"teach you to bring the dead to life."_

 _"You sound like my potions master,"_ Murmured Harry. The glass jar was within touching distance now. It couldn't hurt to take a look at it, could it? Just a look. _"He's as passionate about his potions as you are about your secrets."_ He should leave. Right now. He should turn away and go back. Why wasn't moving? His feet wouldn't listen. He knew he should leave but he wanted to stay. That alone sent the bells in the corners of his mind clanging. Danger! They shouted. Danger...

A beaming smile. _"Passionate. I like that."_ Long fingers brushed Harry's bangs out of his face. _"Would you like to learn some of my secrets Harry? I can do anything you wish. Any type of spell. All you must do is ask and your wish will be my command."_

Something about that caught Harry's attention and he managed to drag his eyes away from the necklace, locking them on the other wizard instead. His feet still wouldn't listen. His heart wouldn't listen, intent on beating straight out of his chest. His lungs even couldn't seem to find the strength to draw in a proper breath. Breathe Harry. _"How's that?"_ He voiced the question steady. Thank merlin.

The Keeper bounced on his feet. His hands flitting about as he spoke like he was conducting an orchestra, red silk flowing. _"Power like this, like mine, is sealed away for a reason Harry. A very silly reason sometimes. They never wanted anyone else to learn of it. To have it. I thought everyone with the potential should be taught, pushed to the limits of their talents. I believed we had a responsibility to make certain the future magic users became more with each generation than the one before. Building upon a solid foundation left to them. To grow. I believed if we pushed hard enough, trained long enough, learned and researched...we would discover we were limitless. That magic was limitless. Masters of the Universe."_ A sound somewhere between a growl and purr came out of the boy. _"They wanted to lord their own power over the magical beings of this world. They wouldn't say it in such a way but that is what it amounts to. They thought it would be fairer to lump everyone in together and give them all the same materials. They wanted to keep everyone on the same level so when someone managed to 'accidentally' break out of the shell it would be an anomaly and no one would feel inferior. In reality, I frightened them. Students would come to me. People traveled to see me, ask me questions. Scholars from all over the world. Me. The youngest of the lot. How it infuriated them. Out of control, they called me. Out of line. Well...they couldn't have anyone threatening their superiority could they?"_

 _"And you threatened them."_ Harry guessed.

The Keeper flashed his teeth. _"Indeed."_ His snake whom Harry had quite forgotten gave a hiss of laughter from the chair. It lay coiled there. Watching. _"I have limited access to my powers within these walls as a result."_

Harry chew his lip. _"Why don't you leave then? It isn't right for them to keep you here. And you've been here long enough maybe they aren't watching you anymore. I bet you could come out."_ Where would the other boy go? A slight tremor of disappointment hit him. What if the other wizard left and he didn't get to see him anymore? Maybe he could convince him to stay nearby. In Hogsmeade or teach at the school if he liked it that much. Somewhere close...

Long fingers left his bangs, traced the sides of his face and then were pulled back. _"Oh, I would **love** to come out."_ The Keeper breathed. _"Therein lies the problem. I can only use my full magic for someone else's benefit. What's more I can only leave this place under the control of a master."_ He said the last bitterly.

Harry frowned. _"They made you...their servant? That isn't fair. That's not right. Just because you wouldn't do what they wanted or be who they wanted you to be. That doesn't give them the right to force you to do whatever they wanted. They could have left. Or asked you to leave."_ The raven haired teen's mind raced. He felt a shocking amount of outrage on the other wizard's behalf. Maybe Harry could help? There was so much stuff down here, surely they could work together and find a counterspell of some sort and set the poor wizard free. No one deserved to be shoved out of sight because they were different and then brought back out when it was convenient for you. Tugged and tossed around according to their current popularity. A toy for the public. How dare anyone be any different than anyone else? Any different than what you want them to be? Who cares for their happiness as long as everyone fits into the black white boxes you made for them right? Ludicrous.

 _"How can I help?"_ Harry's mouth asked.

Burgundy eyes glittered. _"If you were willing to take the title of the master I could leave this room with you. I could use my powers whenever you like for whatever purpose you like. I'd be able to teach you everything I know."_ His voice was soft and sweet again. Almost affectionate.

Whispers. What were they saying? He couldn't understand them. _"Wouldn't people notice you walking about with me?"_ Harry asked vaguely, losing track of what they were talking about. His gaze locked on the necklace once more. He wanted to put it on. Maybe he should. Only for a moment. He just wanted to see it. To have a closer look.

The older boy was waving a hand in his peripheral vision. _"I can take care of that. I can even make it so no one but you can see me if you like."_

 _"Yeah...that might be best. Just for a little while."_

 _"As long as you like my little snake speaker."_ The wizard stepped beside him, taking hold of Harry's wrist gently when he had reached out to move the glass jar. _"Careful. You have to say the words first. We have to do this properly. I will submit to you. Teach everything you wish to know. Help you learn anything you need to learn. Do whatever you ask of me. Keep you safe. In exchange, you will take me out of here and tell me what I need to know about the world as it is now. Do we have a deal?_ "

Why not?

 _"Yes...we have a...deal."_ Suddenly his hand was free.

Harry moved the jar aside. He grasped the chain of the necklace carefully. It was heavy and smooth, the medallion hanging on the end showed a snake wound about a half cut apple. A strange triangular symbol within it. Another circle... He pulled the chain over his head. The medallion landed with a thud against his chest. Silence loud and strong. Strength. Power. Energy. Something inside of him opening and pouring out, filling him. Too much. There was way too much of it. In his heart. In his arteries. In the veins of his arms and his legs and the sides of his neck. In his mind. Harry rocked on his feet as it slammed into him, waves of it crashing. The Keeper's power.

After a moment -when he found he could breathe and his hands had stopped shaking- Harry eyed the boy standing beside him. His mind was much clearer now. Questions piling up inside of it. _"What's your name anyway? I can't just keep calling you The Keeper after all."_

The wizard put his fingertips to Harry's chin, leaned down ad put his mouth to his ear. _"They called me...Salazar."_

Harry shook involuntarily. _"Um, and these words here. What do they say?"_ He asked pointing at the words carved into the side of the podium. The same ones he'd seen in the tree etching. Harry looked up at the wizard and wished he hadn't. His breath left out of his lungs. Red eyes were staring at him. So intense. Focused. So close.

 _"...God save the Kings..."_

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2016**

* * *

 **Notes:** Here we are. Whew Salazar is a guilty pleasure to write I'm not going to lie.

 **AN:** Thoughts, Questions, Guesses, Comments, Theories and Limericks always welcome.

 **ANx2:** What is the verdict? Would you like to see what happens next? Because I am so excited.

 **-Pseu**

* * *

 _oOoOoOo_

 _"Just one spark is all it takes I tried so hard but it all goes up in flames...just one chance is all it takes, can't change the past but I can work to change today...I can't get away from the fire that burns inside consuming, I can't breathe, the voices scream, the enemy takes over everything...this is the madness in me."_

 _oOoOoOo_


	2. Chapter 2

~ ***** PSEU ***** ~

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity : Rise!**

* * *

 _ *****_ _"No_ _ **!**_ _You_ _ **'**_ _ll never be alone_ _ **!**_ _When the darkness comes you know I_ _ **'**_ _m never far_ _ **...**_ _hear the whispers in the dark_ _ **...**_ _"_ _ *****_

* * *

 **Summary:** A basilisk wasn't the only thing Hogwarts kept locked away for centuries. Revolution. Anarchist!Harry. Morally Ambiguous.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter **,** and **...**

 **Warnings:** Morally Ambiguous. I can provide further warnings if necessary, feel free to suggest them and I shall take them into consideration.

 **Contains:** Questionable Alliances, Magical Theory, Tested Loyalties, Tough Moral Choices, Deception as an Art, Political Maneuvering, Conspiracy, Plotting, Blatant Manipulation, Unexpected Backstabbing, Emotional Warfare, Flaws and Vices, Temptation, Mistakes, Inconvenient Truths, Blackmail, Bribery, Mental and Emotional Torture, Lying by Omission, Revolution, Rebellion, Wizarding Laws, Magical Creatures, Propaganda, Historical Fact Checking, Poison, Split Personalities, Attempted Exorcism, Anarchy

 **AN:** Originally this was a one shot written for a contest.

 **ANx2** : This is a lot of work, I'm not gonna sugar coat it. I'm really pushing myself with this story. I know exactly what sort of story it should be, where I want it go and I want to do it right. Hopefully I pull it off. I am all kinds of stepping outside of my comfort zone.

 **ANx3:** Thoughts, Comments, Questions, Theories, Guesses and Limericks always appreciated.

 **Ever Yours, PSEU**

* * *

 _ **"...** When I wake up to the sound of demons **,** they **'** re always telling me that I **'** m no good_

 _And all the angels keep scratching **...**_

 _I **'** m doing what I can to fight this anger **,** I **'** m just a product of a living Hell _

_And I don **'** t want to live like this no more_

 _Everything is crumbling in my head **...** sometimes I wish I was **...**_

 _I **'** m just a creature of a broken past **,** we **'** re all looking for a second chance _

_And I don **'** t want to live like this no more_

 _And all the madness rages in my head **...** sometimes I wish I was **...**_

 _But maybe I **'** m not alone **(** We are not alone **) -**_ _But you and I we **'** re not alone **(** Maybe I **'** m not alone **)**_

 _Maybe if you take my hand_

 _What have we got to lose **,** when we **'** ve already lost it all_

 _Say a prayer for the damned **..."**_

 **-P** rayer **F** or **T** he **D** amned

* * *

 **Chapter Two: The Consequences**

* * *

The thing about consequences is that you can never fully appreciate them until you're facing them.

Like respecting fire. Or accepting mortality. It's why we make so many more stupid choices when we are young. Our souls lack the pains of consequence to temper our spontaneous decision-making tendencies. It does balance out a bit as we grow older. Fewer mistakes are made in exchange for comparatively larger ones. Harder ones. Farther reaching ones. And sometimes we make mistakes we can't fix.

Big ones.

While Harry had a crisis raging on the inside, The Keeper turned about in a slow circle with his red eyes flowing over the contents of the Archives. "This tournament. What's your plan for it?" He asked.

"Not to die," Harry said bluntly. His mind raced from moment to moment, retracing all of his steps since entering the chamber. He hadn't noticed anyone was inside. He'd allowed himself to be swept along in his emotions. Allowed The Keeper to manipulate him because he offered something he wanted. So many mistakes to fix and he didn't know where to start.

Salazar paused to glance at him over his shoulder. "Is that all?"

Harry looked up. "Well, I..."

"Ah. You'd like to do well. You wouldn't mind winning." The Keeper appeared pleased with this news.

Harry wished he'd stop doing that. Reading his mind or whatever he was doing. He blinked at himself. He could just order him to stop, couldn't he? Harry wasn't sure how this whole master thing worked. "Maybe yeah." Could he set down some rules and order The Keeper to stay within the realm of those rules when he used his power? He'd have to be very careful not to leave any loopholes.

"What have you learned?" The wizard snapped his fingers. Two chairs and a small low table popped into existence. The Keeper seated himself. "What level are you at do you know? Any obscure or uncommon skills?" A bit of parchment appeared on the table.

Harry wracked his brain. Like what? "I...survived a killing curse. I speak parseltongue. I have used a time turner." Did any of those even count as skills? "Er...and I can cast an uh Patronus." Harry offered. In response, Salazar carefully wrote everything down.

"And your level?"

"I'm in fourth year?" Harry guessed wildly.

A sharp nod. "Thank you. Not a bad start anyway. Let's see the Patronus then." Red eyes caught his expectantly.

"What. Now?"

"Yes. Now please." Sal snapped his fingers twice, impatient. Harry found himself pulled up and dragged it the center of the room. Magic wrapping about him like sheets of silky fabric. Harry straightened when Sal's magic released him and sent a scowl at The Keeper. "Of course a demonstration for his Majesty." He simpered.

Salazar stopped writing quill in the air. Red eyes glanced at him. "Don't ever do that again."

Harry grinned. "Alright pay attention if I must be a show pony." He took a breath, closing his eyes. _"Expecto Patronum."_ A familiar rush roared through him, down his arm and out of his wand. His Patronus -a stag- shot out of it. The spirit animal landed on the floor, eerie parodies of hoof steps following the action. So real. So detailed. The Patronus looked around seeing no Dementors. Finally, it zeroed in on The Keeper. Approaching him. Salazar twisted in his seat, parchment and quills forgotten. Long fingered hands reached out and passed through the spirit. Harry jumped when he felt phantom hands against his face. He didn't know you could do that.

"It's beautiful," Salazar commented. In another moment the stag left. "Good. Very good." Salazar complimented Harry. He stood in that lazy quick way of his and strode nearer to Harry. He stopped abruptly when he was still a few feet away. "Let us see how your shields are."

"My sh-" Without much thought on his part Harry ducked to the floor. An unknown spell sizzled the air overhead. Holy Merlin in Avalon he really tried to hit him!

"Not bad reflexes."

"Gee thanks," Harry muttered.

"Now use a shielding spell. Try _Protego_." The Keeper commanded. Harry stood, eyes on Salazar warily. He wasn't even using a wand! It wasn't fair. And wasn't Harry supposed to be the one in charge here?

"What is the wand move-"

"Doesn't matter." Salazar interrupted. "Focus on what you need to happen. Your magic obeys you. Feel it, form it, create what you desire."

With that, Salazar shot another spell at him. Harry closed his mouth with a click and raised his wand. What made a good shield? Panicking Harry flicked his wand. _"Protego."_ To his surprise the rudimentary outline of a door with a slotted window formed in front of him. Salazar's spell met the construct and fizzled out of existence.

"Good. Very good. Let's not discuss how unhealthy it is that the very barrier which locked you away is what you think of when you think of safety, shall we?" The Keeper said lightly.

Harry stared at the replica of his cupboard door. "I just...I.."

"It kept you in but it also kept them out." The Keeper said. It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded. "How did you know?" The Keeper was silent long enough Harry thought he wouldn't answer him.

Then, quietly, it came. "I think we have both had enough of being locked away." Salazar clapped his hands, all shining eyes and bright smiles once more. "Now. Where _did_ you learn the charm?"

"My third-year defense instructor," Harry replied, his own eyes still locked on The Keeper. There was a small space of time there he'd seen the other without a mask. And damn if he hadn't looked just as broken as Harry felt. It was an image he didn't think he'd forget anytime soon.

Salazar had already summoned his paperwork to him, leaning against a shelf and using the top as a table. "You had a different one in third year?"

"We have a different one every year."

The quill quit scritching. The Keeper glanced at him. "Why?"

"I can't speak for the years before I attended but the first defense instructor I had...I may have turned to ash after he attempted to strangle me. The second is a permanent resident of St Mungos." Harry listed. He was unable to stop a particularly vicious grin at the thought of Lockhart. "The third left after everyone found out he was a werewolf. This year we've got a retired auror. He's...solid I think. Not _mentally_ but he knows what he's talking about. The werewolf is my favourite. He taught me the Patronus charm."

Salazar started writing again. "You did not mind his lack of humanity?"

"He was more human than most." Harry defended. Lupin had been brilliant. "Just because it says normal or human on the tin doesn't make it so. My relatives seem perfectly normal and they..." His voice caught in his throat. He had not meant to bring them up. To say that. Why did he keep talking about things he didn't want anyone to know about? What was it about Salazar that made him do this?

The Keeper's gaze lifted from the parchment once more. "They should have loved you when they could have." It was both sweet and ominous.

Harry shoved aside a sudden influx of memories from a time when he had tried to earn their love. Tried being as much like them as he could. When he'd been eager to do as they said in order to prove himself. When he wanted their loved and acceptance more than anything. Salazar should keep his sticky fingers out of Harry's memories! It was no one's business and certainly none of his. How dare he?

" _Stop that_ ," Harry commanded. The memories stopped bombarding him. "It doesn't matter anymore." The ache was back. Damn Salazar to Heel. Harry hadn't had the ache in years now. He didn't need to be accepted by them. Loved by them. He didn't need anyone. Not anymore. Even his friends preferred each other to him. Anger surged in from the corners he'd pushed them only a little while ago. He hated this. He usually had better control of his emotions than this.

"But it does."

Harry's attention snapped back into place. The Keeper stood before him far closer than he was before, parchment and quill once again left behind.

"What?" Harry questioned.

"You are going to be great, little snake." The Keeper repeated. He reached out a hand as if to touch him, stopping only inches from Harry's face. "How anyone can look at you, feel your magic, and not see it astounds me. One day your family -everyone- will look back and remember these moments. These years. The way they treated you. They're going to remember and they are going to wish they had done right by you." Red eyes bore into him and it was very hard not to be pulled in by them. Someone as strong and as brilliant as Salazar saying those things about him. It made you feel special.

And that was dangerous.

"For as long as man has been a member of the universe there have been people like that." Salazar continued as if the pause never happened. "Twisting the world around to suit them. Deciding who is right or wrong today. Which group or individual is revered or infamous or evil. As if they have a right to." Salazar stepped closer, still refraining from touching him. "History Harry, history may be written by the winner but the winner isn't always the last soldier standing when the dust settles. Sometimes he's waiting on the sidelines with bullets of his own, waiting to kill off the survivors so he can tell his own version of events." The Keeper's mouth came down to his ear. "Your ministry is wandering about with a swelled head now that they've got no one against them. But they are not going to forget that it is because of you. They _want_ you to mess up. To shoot you down. They're just waiting for a reason."

"That's cheerful." Harry snarked. He tried to remain calm on the outside. He wasn't sure he succeeded. The Keeper was close enough Harry wouldn't be surprised if he heard his heart hammering against his ribs.

"It's the truth." The Keeper corrected. "They see you as a potential threat. What we need is for them to acknowledge you as one now." Such faith in Harry's ability to do so. It was ridiculous. The man was manipulating him. He knew it. He knew and it was still hard to fight against it. After all, he was saying all of the right things. Not even in a condescending or humouring sort of way. Salazar said it as if he believed it and it only happened to be what Harry longed to hear. that it only happened to echo the thoughts Harry held within himself.

"How...how can I do this." Harry breathed. "How can we work together when we don't trust one another?"

Salazar pulled back so their eyes met. "Think of it as a beneficial **relationship**. We're not conventional friends and we don't have to be. Think of me as your confidant. A mentor and an obedient servant. You hold my power, Harry." He straightened to his full height. Harry tried to take a step back to realize to his horror he'd been backed into a corner with noticing. When one earth had they moved? He didn't remember moving. "You can give it." Power siphoned out of him. "Or you can take it away." The Keeper gave it all back. As before it surged through him, filling him, electrifying him. Harry rocked a bit. Light headed.

"The choices are in your hands, little snake." Salazar murmured. "What would you have me do?"

Harry shut his eyes tight. "Can you leave me alone. Just for a moment. I can't think like this.'

"No."

His eyes snapped open. "No? I order you to leave-"

 _"No."_ It was firmer this time. Harder. The Keeper's arms found places at either side of Harry, locking him in. "You will never be alone again."

A hand pulled him along. "Time for your lessons."

"Lessons?" Harry tried to focus back on the present. Never alone. What did that mean? Was he stuck like this forever? Would Salazar remain with him even if he were freed? No of course not, why should he. He glared at the piece of him that found the news comforting. It wasn't anything to be happy or hopeful about. The Keeper wouldn't mean it in the way Harry's more naive self wished for him to. This wasn't a wizard he could depend on outside of their agreement and Harry couldn't afford to forget that. Ever.

"Yes. You need to survive the tournament. You want more control over your life. You want to know who you can trust. You do not want to go back to the muggles. As your obedient servant, I shall provide you with everything you need to know to do these things. Starting with this." He twirled around looking over a shelf. "Have a seat." The Keeper said absently. A chair materialized beneath him. Harry's knees buckled and he sat, bewildered. Salazar spun back around. A chalkboard formed in the air behind him. As he spoke two pieces of chalk wrote down was he was saying.

"There was a man. Epictetus. You've heard of him? No? He said we have two ears and one mouth so we can listen twice as much as we speak." The Keeper broke off and snapped his fingers. A small table with parchment and a quill appeared before Harry. Reeling and off balance, Harry gave a mental shrug and began taking notes. "You will have noticed we have two eyes as well." The Keeper continued. "Observation is the action or process of observing something or someone in order to gain information."

Salazar walked from his little lecture area and began placing round white stones on the floor in a semi-circle to Harry's left.

"Your mind is your greatest asset. You don't need to be the strongest or the eldest or the quickest if you know yourself the best. Practicing little things like releasing your wand from its halter, ducking, dodging, turning yourself to the side to make yourself a smaller target...your body remembers it after a time. Soon you will not have to think about it in order for it to happen. Like breathing. They call this muscle memory. You see, it does not much matter how stronger magically the man in front of you is if he had to stop and think about what he is going to do next. We will train your body into perfecting and remembering simple things so you can let yourself go on autopilot. It will do the things that need to be done while you are thinking of your next move. You will analyze your opponent and when they make a mistake -and they will- you will be ready. When you get good enough one mistake is all you will need. Victory will be yours. Not because you were faster or stronger or knew more spells, but because you know your own strengths and weakness well enough and you paid attention."

The Keeper surveyed the stones he'd placed on the ground. With a wave of his hand -and the feeling of air being released from somewhere in Harry's middle- the stones began to shift and morph into familiar faces. "Just as you must know yourself you must equally know your audience."

Rather good mockeries of people Harry knew stood before them. Malfoy. Snape. Vernon. Hermione. Ron. And to his surprise, Cho Chang. "You must know yourself as you are. Flaws and vices included. Knowing yourself is your greatest weapon and defense. It will tell you what others are trying to get you to do and you will be able to choose how you respond. I have chosen those who make you uncomfortable, those around whom you lower your guard, those who are best at pushing your buttons and getting a reaction out of you." He pointed to them as he said their categories.

"You will need to figure out why you respond as you do to the individuals in question. We will eventually move on to people you do not know. Practicing with those you already know something about will be a good place to start for now I think."

They were the strangest lessons Harry had ever experienced. Surprisingly informative as well. Think he'd never thought about or cared about before started to seem quite important.

"Pay attention. Don't walk into a room without knowing who is in there and how you are going to leave if you need to." The Keeper gave Harry a smirk at this. Harry's cheeks burned. Yes well, the last time he hadn't done that he'd ended up magically bonded to someone. Lesson learned. "We will hone your observation skills through little things at first. For now, every time you enter a room you will write down at least one thing you notice." Salazar gave him a small black journal. "Whenever someone enters or leaves the room, write down something about them you notice. Their height, the way they walk, what house they are in, how many books they have with them. Find something. Hair colour even. And when people speak to you write down something about them you notice. When you see groups of people interacting find something. Write it down."

As The Keeper spoke the golems -as Harry learned they were called- would reform into the correct action, giving Harry a creepy sort of visual aid. "Are they friends? Do they share a common interest? Why are they there and what will happen if you join them and enter the room they are in? As always look for other exits. How large is the room? Where are the authority figures located?" He leaned against the wall, watching Harry and the golems. "Hiding places? Who is paying attention to you? What sort of image are you presenting? It will take time however soon it will all come to you naturally."

Harry raised a hand then mentally scowled at himself. "What does this have to do with the tournament? I thought that was our first priority."

"And it is. We have no idea what you will be facing in the three coming rounds. What you will have to do. Rather than spend all our time trying to learn as many spells as possible, I believe we should take what you are already good at and perfect it, choose a small list of types of spells to delve into and focus the rest of our attention on you getting to know yourself. If you have tools you know how to use well and a quick creative mind you can get yourself out of nearly any situation. The point of the tasks is to complete them -of course- and to do it in such a way that gets you the most regard. Complete it perfect. Make it look easy. As if you're bored. As if it were nothing, even if you may be shaken on the inside. This will affect the score they give you far more than halfway completing a hard spell or transfiguration which is somewhat impressive but takes away from your time or causes you to finish the task imperfectly. Who will be your audience?"

"I...er...the world?"

The Keeper raised one brow. "Which opinions will matter?"

"The crowd."

"Really?"

Harry thought about it. "The judges?"

"Yes. It is them you must impress. They are the ones handing out the scores no matter how the crowd may cheer."

Harry frowned. "I feel like we keep sliding through different topics."

"As long as you take the information in," Salazar said airily, waving a hand. "However if you think you don't need these lesson perhaps it is time for a practical." With snaps Harry was coming to hate Salazar's magic wrapped around him, moving him to his feet. The golems were gone and everything else in a twenty-five feet radius. Harry's heart stopped altogether when he recognized the dueling pose The Keeper assumed at the farther end of their improvised dueling ring. He expected Harry to fight him? Numbly he went through the motions of bowing.

That was a mistake.

Salazar was moving the instant they were both turned around. Running diagonally to Harry's left, feet weaving in and out quicker than was human. Harry shot off " _petrificus totalus_ " the first thing to come to mind. The Keeper's body swerved around the spell -hardly having to move out of its way at all- and kept coming for him, firing off an unknown spell of his own. Mind drawing a blank Harry threw up a shield to give him time to think. His broom closet door materialized in front of him. It held against the spell just as it had before. Harry grinned then cursed when he realized Salazar was even closer to him now. He flicked his wand and released the shield, stumbling backward to get out of the way.

This was anther mistake.

Three more spells came for him. Harry threw the shield back up. Why couldn't he think of anything useful to do? He was getting slaughtered by a man who hadn't had a proper duel in a thousand years! Harry's eyes snapped back to the wizard still come for him. Focus Potter! Harry tried to move experimentally and found the shield stayed right where it was. Curious Harry quit concentrating on it and shouted out the trip jinx. Salazar jumped over it easily. That didn't _matter_ because now Harry knew his shield would stay up until he brought it down. Harry moved closer to his shield and used it as cover. He shot two spells of his own. A stinging hex followed by the tickling charm, whispering the later. They looked similar enough. To his delight The Keeper assumed them to be the same, raising a small shield to block them. It did not, however, stop the other wizards progress.

A curse hit Harry's shield and to his horror, a freaking crack appeared in it. Another hit the right side. Another crack. The Keeper was there suddenly right in front of him. The taller boy twisted in the air bringing his feet up and against the shield. It shattered. Harry didn't have to time to do anything other than gape before his back was on the ground. The Keeper straddled him, magical ropes curling around his body and preventing his escape just as his senses came back to him and he thought to struggle.

 _"Expelliarmus."_ Salazar murmured. Harry's wand snapped from his hand to The Keeper's only to be pointed at his own throat. It was utterly humiliating. "Do you yield?" Salazar questioned. It was for formalities sake Harry suspected because not yielding would be stupid.

"Yes." Harry spat. Salazar stood banishing the roped and offering his hand. Harry took it with ill grace and allowed the other wizard to haul him to his feet. His wand was returned immediately.

"What have you learned?" Salazar prompted.

"That I suck," Harry said spitefully.

The Keeper's lips twitched. He opened his mouth to say something no doubt snarky then seemed to think better of it. "Your shield is strong but not impenetrable. You show promise. _Truly_." He insisted when Harry's face shot downward, eyes firmly on his feet. Embarrassed. "I have much to teach you and you have much to learn. It is important for you to remember that you are capable of everything I show you. If I didn't think highly of you I would not have allowed you to gain mastery over me." Salazar said.

"Thanks?" Harry held up his wand and scowled at it. "Traitor," He accused softly. Harry looked up then and studied The Keeper. "How do you do that? Move that way? Like you don't have any bones in your body and you already know every move I will make? And sometimes you know things I haven't told you, even without going through my memories."

Salazar tilted his head, a small teacup appearing in his hand. He took a sip. "Observation." As if it were obvious. "Everything you do, the tone of your voice and the words you choose. The body language that goes with them and whether or not you hold eye contact. All of it means something. All of it tells me something about who you are and what you want. It is why the other students treat you as they do."

"They fear me." Harry pointed out. "Not always but if I catch them off guard the first thing they do is become suspicious...fearful."

"They should." The Keeper said.

"I don't want anyone to fear-"

"Yes. Yes, you _do_." Salazar spoke so slow and so sweet. "You want them to respect you. To see your potential. It's written all over you." He placed a long-fingered hand over Harry's heart. The very hands shooting out curses without a wand just moments ago. Harry felt his heart rate jump immediately, his breathing slow. Ragged. Those hands were thin and flawless and deadly. "I can feel it burning inside of you. You thirst for validation the way a man in the desert thirsts for water and shade. You need it. They ought to fear you. The rage you hold inside of you, the resentment. That combined with the power you have and the power you will have...one day your hold on it will break." Salazar leaned a bit closer, peering into Harry's eyes. "I see you, Harry Potter. Do not lie to _me._ "

Being the well-adjusted teenager he was, Harry replied to that ominous declaration with snark. "That's deep for a man drinking out of a floral teacup."

Red eyes flashed. "Thank you."

He would never allow himself to trust Salazar. Harry decided it right then. Because he was in way over his head.

He'd learn what he could from the other wizard. Though a part of him rebelled at the thought of using another person. No matter how dark and dangerous. Harry would learn everything he could, get the man to help him through the tournament and then he would find a way to get rid of this damned connection they had going on. The necklace wouldn't come off. It was the first thing Harry tried when the haze left his mind. It was okay. He had plenty of time to figure out how this connection worked and how to use it to his advantage. Then he would _severe_ it and seal The Keeper within the archives in such a way no one else would _ever_ find him. Making mistakes is a part of life. It was how you learned, Harry knew. But sometimes you made mistakes you couldn't fix.

Big ones.

* * *

 _._

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2016**

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 **Notes:** Salazar is a guilty pleasure to write.

 **AN:** Thoughts, Questions, Guesses, Comments, Theories and Limericks always welcome.

 **ANx2:** The next chapter will have more training, the rest of the weekend and Harry emerging from the Chamber to attend class.

 **-Pseu**

* * *

oOoOoOo

 _"Little kings all ruling castles welcome to my world of fun...flip the switch and watch them run!"_

oOoOoOo


	3. Chapter 3

~ ***** PSEU ***** ~

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity : Rise!**

* * *

 _ ***** "Desires dictate our priorities, priorities shape our choices, and choices determine our actions._ _"_ _ *****_

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 **Summary:** A basilisk wasn't the only thing Hogwarts kept locked away for centuries. Revolution. Anarchist!Harry. Morally Ambiguous.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter **,** and **Salazar Slytherin-ish**

 **Warnings:** Morally Ambiguous. I can provide further warnings if necessary, feel free to suggest them and I shall take them into consideration.

 **Contains:** Questionable Alliances, Magical Theory, Tested Loyalties, Tough Moral Choices, Deception as an Art, Political Maneuvering, Conspiracy, Plotting, Blatant Manipulation, Unexpected Backstabbing, Emotional Warfare, Flaws and Vices, Temptation, Mistakes, Inconvenient Truths, Blackmail, Bribery, Mental and Emotional Torture, Lying by Omission, Revolution, Rebellion, Wizarding Laws, Magical Creatures, Propaganda, Historical Fact Checking, Poison, Split Personalities, Attempted Exorcism, Anarchy

 **AN:** Originally this was a one shot written for a contest.

 **ANx2** : I am just in the damn zone for this story. Some of you may notice the rating went up a notch. I know happen to know whats coming soon and decided it would be better to change it now rather than wait and spring it on you. So there ya go.

 **ANx3:** Thoughts, Comments, Questions, Theories, Guesses and Limericks always appreciated.

 **Ever Yours, PSEU**

* * *

 _"Who knows? Maybe they're right. Maybe we are driven crazy by our feelings.  
_

 _Maybe love is a disease, and we would be better off without it._

 _But we have chosen a different road._

 _And in the end that is the point of escaping the cure:_

 _We are free to choose._

 _We are even free to choose the wrong thing."_

 _-_ Requiem

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 **Chapter Three: The** **Decision**

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Things never go wrong at the moment you expect them to.

When you're completely relaxed, oblivious to any potential dangers; that's when bad things happen.

Robes long since abandoned Harry Potter stood in the middle of the ring, chest heaving in the midst of another mock battle. Battle being the operative word. Salazar took his lessons...seriously. There was no half hour discussion of what he should practice. It was constant movement from beginning to end with the older boy throwing out questions as they dueled. Harry was forced to evaluate the moves he was making and prepare himself to justify his thinking. When he was wrong it was up to him to think up a possible correction and then implement it. Harry had never been taught in such a fashion. Far more used to the single requirement of following along with the book and not messing up too badly.

If he messed up here he bled for it.

During their time together Harry discovered quickly he enjoyed experimenting with his spellwork. Doing things one might not normally consider doing. It was a wild and unstable sort of freedom being down there with Salazar. He could ask him any question and attempt any experiment without fear of judgment. If anything The Keeper appreciated Harry's honest curiosity, often searching tomes and scrolls and things for Harry he thought would help. He was patient. An annoyingly good teacher actually. Harry would like the boy to be bad at something just once.

With The Keeper's encouragement he improved upon his initial shield charm, now able to produce a smaller shield which moved along with him just in front of him, covering vital organs. He'd fashioned it to be flexible as well in hopes it would make it less likely to splinter. It worked more or less if allowed himself to make tacticle retreats. His inner Gryffindor was not fond of those. Salazar was pleased with this development and they spent a subsequent four hours discovering the variety of ways Harry could utilize such a shield. Keeping it up without the need to maintain his focus on it and retaining the ability to utilize other spells without weakening them, or the shield, was the very first order of business. If Harry thought quidditch practice in the rain was taxing he now knew better.

Sweat stuck to his hot skin in irritating globs. is sleeves were rolled up. No idea where his tie had gone. It was useless anyway.

Too restrictive. 

In the name of science -or some other similarly completely bullshit excuse- The Keeper had him try his new ideas again and again until he'd thought up at least ten different ways of using them other than their original purpose. Supposedly to help his creativity. What magical dueling had to do with the wicked daggers in the wizard's hands Harry did not know. What he did know was he really, really didn't want to cut by one.

Salazar twirled landing one blow after the other against Harry's shield, shoving him backward. Harry skittered away in response, keeping his footwork at the front of his mind. He had long since learned stumbling or -God forbid- falling was almost a death sentence while battling Salazar. Daggers swiped at the space Harry had just vacated, slicing through the air with a sharp metallic chime. The sound sent unnerving tingles along Harry's skin. Giving him what was surely an unhealthy rush at having only barely escaped.

The Keeper turned bringing down a dagger in a wide arc. Harry's mind froze. _Damn...damn..._ The other wizard's body rotated midair, bringing up one leg in a vicious kick at Harry's shield. In a last ditch effort Harry let his body falter with the movement, angling his shield. Salazar's foot kept sliding to the wizard's pleased surprise. While The Keeper's body kept its forward momentum Harry allowed himself to fall to his knees, arching his back nearly to the ground. Tensing his muscles He sprang up once more, facing the opposite direction. Harry immediately jumped back several feet. Any sense of honourably waiting for his opponent to regain himself and continue the fight evenly was beaten out of him several hours ago.

 _Life is neither fair nor merciful. So why should you be?_

Harry rammed his shield against the incoming dagger. It was not dislodged as he'd hoped. Salazar's grip on it unwavering. Changing tactics Harry aimed to alter the angle of his shield as The Keeper's weapons met it, forcing them to slide away from his body. Unfortunately, Salazar took it as a challenge. The wizard's body spun and unwrapped its self as if it were made of the same red silk that adorned him, flowing like water. Slice after slice came for him. Harry was undeniably grateful for the lessons in muscle memory as he was not able to consciously keep up with the blows instead handing his response over to his body and allowing it to response automatically. His body angled itself to make a smaller target, side stepping more and more often rather than chancing the blows. They were too quick and too sharp to risk any that might not be blocked.

What made this markedly different from his duels back in second year was that Salazar was never not honestly trying to kill him. He toyed with Harry. Not letting forget for even a moment that he could end his life at any moment. Harry knew objectively that such a move would be detrimental to The Keeper's current goals of getting out and about. However the wizards ever changing moods didn't reassure him that Salazar wouldn't do precisely whatever he felt like doing at the time regardless of the consequences. That sort of knowledge kept one on their toes. He lost count of how many times the other wizard picked up off the floor and put him back together.

A sweeping strike came in from the side aiming around the shield. Harry's breath stuck in his throat. _Son of a..._

Without thinking it through Harry jumped high, setting his feet against his shield which he left in stasis and leaped right over Salazar's head. The man's body following through with his stroke and unable to twist to meet him. That didn't stop the man from kicked out backward with his leg. Harry fell straight on his bum. It would have been embarrassing if not for the happy accident of Salazar's kick being aimed much higher than he now found himself. Thanking his ridiculous luck and whatever deity saw fit to grace him with it Harry fumbled to his feet. The Keeper was turning. Harry swing his wand arm in a circle and flung it at Salazar. Red light streaked toward The Keeper forcing him to own. Harry let out a choked gasp. He hadn't thought it would work! Green eyes locked onto the shield hovering in the air behind the other wizard. With some nudging, he summoned it to him.

One of the benefits of his shield reacting to kinetic force rather than just magical was the ability to hit back against a weapon or opponent.

Or do this.

The shield yanked forward like a bobber on a line, shooting toward Harry uncaring of any obstacle in its way. In this case, Salazar. The shield struck his back, toppling The Keeper forward. Harry grinned, biting back a laugh. It was rare he got one over on the man. He held up his arm and secured his shield back in place. Just in time it seemed. Red hex, blue jinx holy crap was sort of curse was that? Salazar disappeared with a pop. Harry stared. What the Hell? Without another soft pop the wizard appeared to his left. Harry blocked a swipe, dodged a spell and returned it with one of his own. The wizard disappeared and reapeaerd again. And again. Harry's eyes flickered around of their own accord, taking in things faster than their master could process them. He barely scrambled out of the way as Salazar shot three more hexes his way followed by two swipes of his daggers. Kick. POP! Swipe. POP! Curse. POP! Swipe.

Stay in one spot you bastard.

Harry stumbled backward swearing. His clothes were soaked in a plethora of bodily fluids. Sweat. Blood. A few tears. He could hardly hold himself upright and there was The Keeper, performing acrobatics without so much as a cut on him. He was toying with Harry and it wasn't fair! He didn't even have the decency to get some dust on his silk after he face-planted. Harry blinked. Where did he...?

A shudder ran up his spine. Warmth. Two arms wound around him from behind pulling him back against The Keeper's chest, hard. The dagger's blade just at the outside of his peripheral vision. A long fingered hand moved to hover just over his heart. But Salazar wasn't ending the duel. The arms around him squeezed tighter. He could feel the other wizard's breaths against the side of his face. The feel of The Keeper's silky magic swam over and around him. He started panicking when the familiar haze flooded his mind. "S-sal." The icy blue light of a curse filled the hand just inches from his heart. _Oh shit_. Harry swallowed. "Salazar. Please..."

"Do you-"

"I bloody yield!" The younger wizard attempted to push Salazar out of his personal space. The Keeper ignored him. He rested his chin atop Harry's head.

"You are improving," Salazar said.

Harry flicked his wand around the wizard's daggers, cleaning up his clothes the best he could. He winced as his wounds were cleaned up. "It doesn't much feel like it." He admitted. His heart was attempting to return to its normal rate. That wasn't funny. He'd thought he was really going to die.

"You may be surprised." The Keeper gave a shrug harry could feel rather than see. Suddenly he was released. The Keeper turned and skipped over to the side of their ring, tossing his daggers on a shelf. It must feel nice to be able to conjure new ones whenever they broke. Harry figured he was a cleaned as he was going to get. He stomped over to the table and sat across from Salazar taking the biscuits offered him with a sneer.

"Sore loser." Salazar taunted.

"One day," Harry vowed. "One day I'm going to beat you senseless."

The Keepers lips twisted into a long crescent smile. " **Promise**?"

Harry scowled, swallowed his biscuits then swiped the rest from the platter in the center of the table. He wouldn't answer him. He knew now it was pointless to try to match wits against the man. Or boy. Or spirit. Whatever the Hell Salazar was. The wizard had a way of twisting words no matter how you meant them. "...not a compliment," Harry grumbled. Their time together within the chamber had oddly gone far too quickly and far too slowly. He would take a break from a lesson or lecture to find only an hour had passed when he was certain it had been much longer. At other times he would find an entire night gone.

"We can return to the chamber to practice whenever you like little snake. You need not look so unhappy." Salazar soothed.

Harry pointedly looked away. There was no reason to miss this. Some small part of him -or maybe a little bigger than he wanted to admit- loathed sharing any part of this with the outside world. The Keeper himself included. It was still his secret as far as Harry was concerned. The weekend had not tempered his anger. He had it more under control. There were bigger things to worry about. The tournament at the very top of his list. Survival outweighed idiotic teenage drama. Salazar's words, not Harry's. The wizard was right. So what if Ron got jealous? Harry didn't have the time to worry about it. Ron would either get over it or he would and Harry could figure out what to do about it when either of the two finally happened. Until then he should set his focus on practicing his observation skills during the day, working hard in class and training in the spaces between for the tournament. The Slytherin in him delighted in this change of attitude. His inner Gryffindor appeased by the duels he frequently engaged in with The Keeper. _Well, as long as my inner personalities are pleased..._

"Pop quiz." Salazar nearly sang. He leaped to his feet and danced over a few feet. With a clap of his hands, his trusty chalkboard hovered behind him in the air. Harry's lips twitched at the sight. Damned idiot. Why couldn't he just stick to one personality? Evil or sweet. Serious or CrayCray. Harry of course ignored his own personality dilemmas.

"Our actions and arguments are focused towards what?"

Harry twisted in his seat to face Salazar. "Our audience."

"Yes. And the number one thing we need to know about how audience is...?" The chalk behind the wizard merrily wrote down his words.

Harry smiled to himself. A fill in the blank lecture. Both the best and the worst sort to get. "Their...motivations."

Salazar nodded. "And this is because?"

"Knowing their motivations tells you why they act the way they do, what is driving their decisions and what you need to do to get them to believe choosing to go along with what you want will ultimately lead to the outcome that they desire. Whether it be social standing, their pride, monetary gain. Anything really. All that matters is that they believe it will benefit this goal."

"A specific audience is called what?"

Harry thought a second. "Target of Influence."

"Which is?" Salazar pressed.

"A...person or persons or entity whom we are trying to persuade to choose to do something differently they have been or might otherwise without our influence."

"Correct." The board flipped over. "And your own resources and power is referred to as?"

"My Circle of Influence." Harry nodded as he answered. He remembered that one.

The Keeper gave a ghost of a smirk. "And the only thing that matters about your circle is what?"

"How well you know how to wield it. Whatever it is. If it is only one thing you have then you learn everything you can about that one thing. The amount of tools at your command matters little in comparison to how well you can use them and your ability to find new ways to implement them." Harry's cheeks did not flush this time. Salazar brought this particular lesson up at least twice a day. "If you did not win the fight there are two reasons why. You either did not use your tools to the best of your ability or the other wizard did so better than you. It is never the tools' fault."

 _"Tell me the differences between a demand, a threat and an offer..."_

Later Harry sat at the table, contemplating the events of the weekend. Could he really expose the other students to Salazar? And could he trust him to keep to his end of the bargain? He couldn't say yes. He couldn't. He knew better than that. But he had promised and even if that meant little to The Keeper, it meant something to Harry. He was effectively putting the lives a thousand teenagers in his own hands, with the belief he could somehow control Salazar. He had the ability to limit the wizard's access to his power. As his lessons said; it wasn't the amount of tools, it was your ability to use them. He had little doubt The Keeper could find a way around his supposed limitations if he needed or wanted to.

It did help that Harry currently didn't like the majority of the students in the school. Somewhat disappointed in himself he shoved aside the part of him telling him to find Dumbledore, tell him what happened and demand he find a way out of it for Harry. The fact was, Harry was learning a lot through The Keeper. He wanted to learn more. Maybe he could convince him it was a better idea to stay in the chamber for now? Harry could always come down and visit him at the end of each day. It could also serve to remind The Keeper who was the one in charge here. Harry didn't have to bring him out or give him all of his power to do what he liked. Harry could keep most of it for himself and force the other wizard to do humiliating menial things like bringing him his shoes or snacks like a house elf. A servant.

Damn he felt guilty thinking like that.

"Are you ready?"

Harry looked up. Salazar stood there, an almost wary expression to his face.

Harry grimaced. "Yes well, about that."

"Because I will admit I am rather excited." Salazar grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him from his seat and dragging him across the floor. Harry let him out of the sheer selfish desire not to have to break the news just yet. God, he was a wimp. "I've read all of these books. So many times. And reading about things and learning new things is something I do enjoy." The Keeper trailed off. He stared at the rows and rows and of books and scrolls and other writing implements. "I haven't been able to use my full power to do magic in so long." The hand slipped from his wrist. Salazar stood there vacantly for several moments.

"And people." Harry jumped when he finally spoke again. "I haven't seen other people in centuries. Will they all dress as you do? Is the politics the same I wonder? I know this part of why they sealed me here...where I can not see anything in the world. They loved to tell me I desired too much. I was greedy. But...that is what desire is." He turned back to face Harry. "A fierce need for what we don't already have. What, perhaps, we can not have. The need for more of what is already available -or more of it- now that is greed. I'm not greedy. I simply have...desires."

Then the melancholy was gone as if it had never been. "I think it will do be good to have a bit of a holiday. Are you ready?"

Something in there resonated with Harry in ways he wishes it wouldn't. Longing to see the world outside to meet people. To be anywhere but the Dursleys. His closet beneath the stairs. The room with many locks and a single cat flap. Bars on the window. Pull yourself together Potter.

"Oh...er I...Uh." Harry cleared his throat, backing up. "You see the things is..." His back hit the wall. Two scrolls fell off of whatever shelf he'd ran into. The Keeper continued to follow after him. He stopped just shy of making physical contact with Harry. Red eyes beneath dark fringe so like Harry's gazed down on him. The younger wizard was pretty sure he really was going to die now. "I decided something."

"Did you?" Voice calm. Too calm. "Do tell."

"I..."

Arms came out to rest on either side of him as they had once before. Salazar leaned down a bit to meet his eyes directly. "Go on then. You can tell me anything little snake. That's what I'm designed for remember? The perfect companion. Your obedient servant." Harry's breath left him a rush as The Keeper leaned even closer, red orbs wide and annoyingly vulnerable. "I have been obedient. Haven't I master?"

His heart clenched. "Don't. Don't do that."

Salazar blinked slowly. "Do not do what? You must only tell me and I shall, of course, obey your wishes-"

"Stop that." Harry snapped. He reached up and put his hands against the other wizards chest to push him back. "Don't do that. Acting like you're..." His voice left him for a moment.

The Keeper frowned, head tilted to the side. "Like I am what?"

"...my slave," Harry whispered. "It's not right."

Salazar took a step back. "The hardest choices in life little snake, are not between what is right and what is wrong but between what is right and what is best. I did not choose to be bound to this place. You, however, you chose to accept ownership of myself through our agreement. I am what I have been fashioned to be. So I will say again, what would you have me do? For your wishes and desires are my commands whether or not you want them to be."

It was annoyingly lukewarm down there. The air was stale. Everything quiet in the smothering way the place had about it. He still didn't know if it were a spell or not. Harry did think it might be, perhaps one to help keep Salazar under control. To keep him calm. He glanced around the place. It looked much as it did when he first came there two nights prior. Some of it altered to make way for their learning places and dueling ring. Tables and chairs for biscuits and tea. The other consumables he'd seen. Harry tried to imagine what it might be like to live here against your will and spend several centuries unable to die to get away from it. Stuck inside until someone wanted to bring you out. To use, not to speak with you or know you or to care much what you thought of it. He thought of living in his cupboard with his relatives for eternity.

It was horrible...

All of his life, the world had made his choices for him. Now the choice was his and once it was made he would have no right to blame anyone else for the consequences. Loss of that privilege, the ability to blame others, unexpectedly stung. He could blame Ron and Hermione for giving him the opportunity to consider coming down here in the first place -if he squinted- He could not blame them for this. But then, Harry thought to himself, if the world wanted him to think only of what was expected of him and never once consider doing anything else they'd gone about it poorly. Doing what everyone else wanted hadn't turned out so well for Harry up to this point. He then thought, while twisting the ends of his sleeves, that if he was to be unhappy as a result of these choices he may as well make them himself.

With a strangled growl and the acknowledgment he was most likely making a very big mistake indeed, Harry took the startled wizard by the hand and began stomping away. "How do we get out of here anyway?"

If The Keeper wondered why he was silent for long he did not comment on it. Rather, Salazar waved a hand and the Archives rearranged themselves to their original orientation. It made a piece of Harry unsettled to see it. They did not go back through the staircase of doom, to Harry's relief and curiosity, instead, Salazar leads them out of a small door along the far opposite wall. It opened into a small room with absolutely nothing in it. Harry followed The Keeper to a red door on the other side. Literally, the only thing present apart from themselves. Its door opened to reveal the seventh floor of the castle. How they went from that far beneath the earth to highest part of the castle one could get outside of the towers was not a question Harry could answer. Or fathom really.

"This room is one of my more clever obstacles I think," Salazar said. He turned back to the door they came from. It left behind no clue of its previous existence. "The only way to access the chamber is to already know that it is behind the door. Otherwise, it will form itself to their wishes, leaving them rather distracted."

"Huh." Was all Harry could think of to say.

They turned together and began down the hall. Footsteps unheard. Harry knew now to spell his shoes silent and never had asked if Salazar was truly that light of step or spelled them himself. The trek to the dorms was longer and shorter than he remembered. He half expected to be accosted at any time by either his friends or Dumbledore. They reached Gryffindor tower without any excitement, though. Murmuring the password and watching the portrait swing open Harry couldn't help stare at the entity standing beside him.

A grin curling along those wicked lips, red eyes glinting, fastened on Harry himself.

This. This was a bad idea.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2016**

* * *

 **Notes:** Salazar is a guilty pleasure to write.

 **AN:** Thoughts, Questions, Guesses, Comments, Theories and Limericks always welcome.

 **ANx2:** Keep in mind everyone this is in the category Horror. It is for a reason. Some of you expressed concern over uneasiness due to Salazar. Others wondered why it was not in the category of friendship or humour- or both. It's in  Horror. Things are meant to be uneasy and uncomfortable from time to time and indeed disturbing or unnerving. While some of you enjoy Salazar and some of his moments with Harry, the fact is Sal is not a good guy with good intentions. Not to say he can't grow to care for Harry in his own twisted way.

 **-Pseu**

* * *

oOoOoOo

 _"There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them."_

oOoOoOo


	4. Chapter 4

~ ***** PSEU ***** ~

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity : Rise!**

* * *

 ** _*"_** _Maybe it's better to cross the line and suffer the consequences than to just sit and stare at that line for the rest of your life_ ** _..._** ** _"*_**

* * *

 **Summary:** A basilisk wasn't the only thing Hogwarts kept locked away for centuries. Revolution. Anarchist!Harry. Morally Ambiguous.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter **,** and **Salazar Slytherin-ish**

 **Warnings:** Morally Ambiguous. I can provide further warnings if necessary, feel free to suggest them and I shall take them into consideration.

 **Contains:** Questionable Alliances, Magical Theory, Tested Loyalties, Tough Moral Choices, Deception as an Art, Political Maneuvering, Conspiracy, Plotting, Blatant Manipulation, Unexpected Backstabbing, Emotional Warfare, Flaws and Vices, Temptation, Mistakes, Inconvenient Truths, Blackmail, Bribery, Mental and Emotional Torture, Lying by Omission, Revolution, Rebellion, Wizarding Laws, Magical Creatures, Propaganda, Historical Fact Checking, Poison, Split Personalities, Attempted Exorcism, Anarchy

 **AN:** Originally this was a one shot written for a contest.

 **ANx2** : Here we are on the next chapter.

 **ANx3:** Thoughts, Comments, Questions, Theories, Guesses and Limericks always appreciated.

 **Ever Yours, PSEU**

* * *

 _"...Wear a smile on my face but there's a demon inside..._

 _Is there so much god-damned weight on your shoulders, that you can't just live your life?_

 _The story's getting old and my heart is getting colder, I just wanna be Jekyll but I'm always fighting Hyde..._

 _You've got rocks in your head, I can hear them rolling around - you can say that you're above it_

 _But you're always falling down_

 _Is there a method to your madness? Is it all about pride?_

 _Everyone I know, they've got a Demon inside -_ _There's a Demon inside_

 _...everyone I know they've got a Demon inside."_

 **-** 5FDP **:** Jekyll **&** Hyde

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Line**

* * *

A small raven haired wizard held still, frozen, in the middle of the yet empty common room.

For a moment he was bombarded with the voices of anger and celebration flitting through his memory. They seemed muted now somehow. He could still _hear_ them but it was as if they were far away or he was standing somewhere up high and the voices could only carry so far. He heard them but he was a not a part of them. They didn't reach him. Which really wasn't normal. Normal for him was every word that -even remotely- indicated he might be something less than favourable striking against him and leaving nearly physical welts in its wake. It had always been that way. He'd always cared so much more than he should what others thought of him. Maybe because in the beginning what others thought of him shaped his world. If he wasn't a freak he wouldn't have lived under the stairs nor have been made to do all of the housework. His family may have cared for him and he may have even been as spoilt as Dudley...as frightening a concept as that may be. Because he _was_ a freak he _did_ live under the stairs and he _did_ do all of the work. He was different.

There was a barrier there now. Something between him and the words. Separating them. Was it really only three nights ago he stood in this room? That he stood here feeling as if his world was crumbling? And now those same problems were smaller or farther away or just...less important. If they registered at all. He certainly didn't _want_ his best mate to be upset with him. He didn't _want_ Hermione to have to choose between them. He didn't want the school to believe he was a _lying cheat_. But there it was and here he was and all of it was different now. Or maybe it was just him that was different. Again.

Always.

It helped a bit that he was angry now. And focused. It didn't hurt him anymore it only made him mad. He could do mad. He could function with mad. He was _used_ to that general emotional state. Hurt. Betrayal. Those were things he couldn't deal with. Not right now. There would be plenty of time when all of this was said and done to worry about Ron and his jealousy and insecurities. To worry about his popularity, his reputation. He had a tournament to survive. He couldn't fix his friendships if he wasn't alive to do some stitching.

Warmth flowed down his arm. _"Keep walking."_ The Keeper murmured in to his ear. _"You'll have time for that later."_

Harry nodded mechanically.

Just standing here thinking about what's happened wouldn't make it go away or change it.

His shoes walked across the low carpeting to the start of the stairs. One shoe one step, the other shoe another step. He was at the door to his dorm without fully registering the climb. It had been so automatic really. He hadn't whined to himself about it for once. He'd just done it and now it was over and it really wasn't as bad as he always complained that it was. Harry reached out and grasped the cool knob, twisting and pushing the door open. The dorm was just the same as it always. Untidy and filled with unconscious boys who couldn't be bothered to get up early. One of them would finally awaken at half an hour until class and They'd mob into the showers. Clothes would be grabbed from wherever they could be found. They would stumble down the stairs and run the halls to get to the great hall just in time to stuff Their faces, figure out what class They had first and bolt out of the room. And They would, of course, be late. They were in their bed in the pajamas They always wore in the positions They always fell into during sleep. As if nothing at all had changed.

Everything had changed.

Harry went to his knees before his trunk, carefully unlocking it and pushing the lid up. He retrieved his school shirt and slacks, which were a bit wrinkled from being thrown about haphazardly. He gathered together his tie and his only other pair of shoes, turning and closing his truck with his foot. It did so quietly, the benefit of having perfected the move over the last four years. Harry frowned just inside the washroom. Four years already? Warm hands pushed him gently toward a shower. Harry set his clothing on the small bench outside of it. Sliding off the shoes he was wearing.

Cool tiles greeted his feet. Air just as cool greeted his skin with each layer of clothing he peeled off and tossed into the hamper by the wall. The shower curtain whooshed closed behind him, its rings sliding along the bar high above him. He shouldn't be so calm right now. Was he in some sort of shock at his actions? Had he come to grips with his choices? Harry wasn't sure. He grabbed the towel, dried off, shove the curtain aside. It would have been a longer shower if he wasn't absolutely sure Salazar would get up to trouble if he went up unsupervised for too long. As soon as his school shirt and slacks were on Salazar was there pulling him from the room. They passed through his dorm, tossing his other shoes on his bed and continuing on through.

Harry couldn't think of a thing to say and so remained silent as The Keeper walked backward in front of Harry settling a red and gold tie about his neck and fixing it. At the bottom of the stairs and stood patiently and allowed Salazar to do his shoes as well. The wizard flitted around Harry, changing the tones of his uniform, the fit and the appearance of the material to suit him. The Keeper even carried Harry's bag for him as they crossed the still empty common room, exited the entrance and stood in the hallway.

It wouldn't always be empty. The students were awakening he knew. There were bound to be some awake in the great hall now. The Ravenclaws at least. The teachers would there as well. He was about to face an unsuspecting world with a powerful wizard of questionable morality at his side. Harry, for all of his weakness in denying Salazar, knew that the other wizard did not have the purest of intentions. He did however believe what he desired most was freedom from what may have become his tomb should whatever magicks keeping him young fail. No one would want to be alone for so long, most especially one who rather liked social interaction. It had become clear to Harry that at times The Keeper was creepy on accident. That the complete disregard for personal space and displays of a physical nature weren't aways done to purposely upset Harry or manipulate him. Sometimes -Harry thought- Salazar did these things to reassure himself that Harry truly was there. That the wizard wasn't alone any longer and the entire thing not a cruel dream or hallucination. He needed the comfort that came with it as much as he liked to use it against Harry, and that might be the biggest factor in Harry's allowing it.

He did tell him to back off when he needed to and most of the time The Keeper obeyed.

Most of the time.

The Great did indeed have a few students in it already along with the majority of the professors. Harry took a moment to clear his thoughts and steady his emotions -as Salazar ingrained in him to do before a duel- claimed his seat and began breakfast. He was so focused on maintaining the proper posture and adhering to the table etiquette he was taught over the weekend he did not notice many things. He did of course notice others things. His eyes had swept the room once upon entering and he could say confidently that there were at least seventeen Ravenclaws in attendance, four Slytherin seventh years, and all of the heads of house along with the headmaster at the time he sat at his table. He had then shifted his focus to the motions he was meant to be putting into practice from now on. It was in the moments he was rearranging his silverware and then eating that other eyes made their own observations.

It had not occurred to Harry that anyone would realize there was much at different about him unless he purposefully pointed in out in some manner. However, wheen lives in an enclosed area with purebloods of a certain caliber -not to mention Slytherins of any caliber- for the majority of the last four years that those other individuals would have noticed and known things about him in that time and would notice it when he changed his routine. As such, as the hall began to fill a bit more, there were eyes meeting eyes, exchanging of glances and raised brows. All of the responses short and rather unnoticeable but for those involved them. And one outsider who was content to sit and observe to his crimson eyed content.

Thus certain individuals noted that a certain well known Gryffindor was not with his normal entourage. That he was not slightly hunched over his meal, picking at a small plate, nodding along to whatever his seatmates were speaking of and then rushing off to class. In fact said Gryffindor was in the Great Hall alone far earlier than what was normal. He sat with proper posture that was just a little lazy. His motions while eating were smooth and slow. The most intriguing thing to be noted was the wizard's face. It was a fact that Harry Potter's thoughts on a situation -or toward a person- were easily read through his facial expressions, even if the boy was clever enough not to say what he might be thinking aloud. This morning his face was calm and neutral, revealing nothing. This alone revealed a lot.

Something had changed. But what, they wondered? As more students filtered in no one set to Harry Potter's left. Was the seat open for someone in particular? Did it symbolize something?

While those minds whirred with questions, Harry finished his meal and rose from the table. Unaware that the consequences of his actions were already coming into effect. His thoughts were already elsewhere. He turned and made his way out of the hall, less oblivious to some of the looks he received as he left, if unaware of their meaning. Harry was more concerned with how he was going to get through an entire day without any way discovering his unexpected companion.

Salazar walled along after Harry, twirling this way and that to examine the new portraits on the wall or the few other inhabitants of the castle they would at times glimpse from afar. As planned Harry arrived to the classroom earlier enough the door was not yet open and no one else was to be seen. The other students more than likely just now arriving to the great hall for breakfast or perhaps just awakening and currently panicking over the time they had remaining to get ready. He was once one of those people. He didn't feel much like one any longer.

Harry sat against the wall to wait for the door to open. Salazar sat beside him. Together they went over Harry's homework which they'd done in between his 'extra classes' with The Keeper. Each essay and assignment researched and redone until it passed the former teacher's approval. His handwriting had been addressed as well. Salazar claiming it offended him. It had been worthwhile though Harry thought, examining the light, swirling handwriting that now belonged to him. He thought his vocabulary may have expanded as well. Or at least the way he used his words.

 _"When you are forming your academic papers you should think of it as an alternative form of The Game." S_ aid The Keeper, falling into lecture mode. _"You have an audience, your professor. What do you know about them? What are they like,w hat do they value? What sort of things do they resent or openly disprove of? You know them better than you think little snake. Shift your words and your tone to reflect what they would like. Not what you think they want to hear but what they like. You're not humouring them. You're persuading them to give you an acceptable grade. So, who are they?"_

Salazar sat against him on his knees, alternating between bouncing on them or draping himself over Harry. Said Gryffindor assumed The Keeper's greater than normal problem with remaining still came from an honest excitement to see how classes in his school were done now, how they had changed and what new things he might learn. That didn't keep him from imparting knowledge he was certain was timeless. Like the rules of The Game.

 _"People can be serious or witty or sarcastic or cold. Regardless of the guards they've got up or how professional they like to think they are, the fact is everybody likes people they feel kinship with. People like them in the most intimate sense. Not just somebody witty, somebody with the right sort of wit. Not just someone serious, some serious about the right things. You've known them four years now Harry. Think back on your interactions with them, what you know about them and use it against them. Write it the right way. Will this professor like it if you ask questions? Will they like it if you reference masters in the field they themselves respect? Or if you make fun of the ones they do not? Figure it out and use the information."_

Harry allowed Salazar's whispered hisses to wash over him, taking in the information as his hands wrote out the last of his essay accordingly. It took him longer than he would admit to get what The Keeper meant when they first began these lessons. He wasn't writing it to sound like his teacher. He was using what he knew of his teacher to influence his word choice, turn of phrase and the tone of the paper. For example, with Flitwick -whose class he had first thing that morning- it might be best to sound enthusiastic, a little witty and include an idea or two. Or at least that was the hypothesis Harry was about to test.

On some level it did feel like he was doing something oughtn't. He wasn't quite lying but it still sort of felt like it.

Hey, an O in charms is an O in charms. 

And Flitwick liked his mother hadn't he? This should be easy really. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Oh because it was a little deceitful. Kinda. Harry groaned. He didn't know.

But it was still an O.

Someone cleared their throat. Harry had wondered when they would try to talk to him. Start something. He and Salazar had known they were there, of course, having heard their muted footsteps.. Shoes that came with a quieting charm, meant not to silence them completely but to keep them a respectable quiet. The kind of shoes you got at the more expensive stores. Pureblood Shoes. Harry glanced to Salazar. The Keeper raised his brows, crossed his arms and waited. Scowling on the inside Harry lifted his head to meet a pale face.

"Malfoy."

The blonde was smug about something. He reached up and tapped the badge pinned to his outer robe. It was flashing text that changed between two phrases. It was altogether unfavourable toward Harry. Apparently, the Slytherins were taking any excuse to get away with insulting Harry while they had the majority of the school's approval to do so. Not surprising really.

The Keeper leaned closer -if it were possible- to Harry in the beat of silence following. The hairs on Harry's arms pricked in response to the wizard's increased proximity. No matter how used to the other he became Harry didn't think he would ever be able not to immediately focus on all of the things those hands were capable of when they came that close. A predator was a predator even if it was something like a friend. _"Go on. Show him what you have learned little snake."_

Heart hammering because holy crap they had been speaking parseltongue less the five feet from Draco Malfoy. Then he realized he was going to have to stand up and put to practice what he had been doing in his 'classes' with Salazar's golems. It was a bit different from doing it through An essay. The consequences for failing were different too. Why the hell did he have to practice on Draco Malfoy of all people? He was genetically predispositioned to play The Game.

Harry swallowed. Aw hell.

He stood up.

I can do this.

The key to persuasion -according to The Keeper- was in your power to influence your target of influence to believe that the course of action which you wish them to perform or encourage is, in fact, something they already want and just had not realized until that moment. What did Malfoy want? Before he met The Keeper Harry might have said 'to embarrass Harry' or 'for everyone to admit he was better than them'. He knew a little something about analyzing people now, though. Considering their actions and their motivations and their desires and what their actions might get them or prevent. All in all, though it had been a golem, Harry felt like he might know the blonde a bit better now. Slytherins weren't ever what they appeared at face value. That was something Salazar made certain Harry knew. If you knew someone was playing the game you must assume that what you see is not what you get. There was always more, always things hidden. Things were never as they seemed. So if Malfoy wasn't condescending and a jerk, why did he _act_ that way? What did he get out of it? When you play The Game everything you do is carefully thought out because you knew everyone else was watching. If Malfoy was interacting with him, that made Harry Malfoy's audience in that moment, at least from the blonde's perspective. That meant he was choosing his words and actions with a purpose behind them. He just needed to figure out what those reasons were.

Harry met light blue eyes with his inner terror hopefully unnoticeable. He leaned against the wall lazily, as Salazar often did. Harry's green eyes went through the motion of surveying the other boy openly. Keeping in mind that everything he was doing the other boy would be analyzing. In reality -what even Salazar did not know- he was doing his best to remember the mannerisms of another Slytherin he'd once known. That boy didn't exist any longer outside of Harry's memory.

"How...enthusiastic." Said Harry.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed fractionally. "You think so? I wasn't originally going to go with the flashing effects, then I realized it would _have_ to be something horridly unsubtly in order to get your attention."

"You think so?" Harry returned, face revealing nothing. Tone nearly bored. Unconcerned. "And do you think you know me well enough to know what might catch my attention?"

The slight smirk that normally graced that pale face wasn't present. His body language the slightest bit more open. Still guarded, of course, he was a Slytherin, but open enough to indicate an interest and a willingness to continue conversing if one was versed in the Pureblood Games. Harry wondered if it was a test. After all Harry had never shown any inclination to participate in them before.

"I had thought all Gryffindors had the attention spans of sparrows," Malfoy amended, "It was only fitting I found something suitably attention-grabbing."

To his surprise, Harry felt the desire to grin. He had Malfoy backtracking and apologizing. That hadn't ever happened before. It didn't _sound_ like that, he readily admitted, if you didn't know how to play The Game. And the sort of power that came with it was...unexpected. How much easier would all of his interactions with the Slytherins gone if he had known how to play along? Even thinking back on some of their interactions Harry had to grimace at how oblivious he had been. So many chances to avoid altercations. Now though, now he had a handle on it. Within him the stirrings of an obsession. A desire to perfect his technique, to try it out on everyone, to see how far it would take him. As if an entire world that always been just in front of his eyes was only now becoming visible, obtainable to him.

The Keeper, perhaps sensing Harry's thoughts, rested long fingers on either side of Harry's shoulders. He could feel him close behind him, standing just a breath away. Watching.

 _"You're doing well,"_ Salazar murmured.

Harry gave a slight nod. The rush of pride he felt was shoved aside to deal with later. He reflected that he was ding that a lot lately and it really couldn't be healthy and he really would have to deal with all of the things he was avoiding at some point. Not today. Some other time. When he had the time to go through them. When he wasn't focused on making it through the school year alive.

Or when he wasn't playing games with Slytherins.

"I can't say I disagree." He said, directing his attention toward Malfoy. "Most Gryffindors are drawn to such things. I guarantee they're going to notice them, so if that is what you were going for I dare say you've achieved your purpose."

There it was. The smallest bit of confusion waring with unlikely understanding creeping in in the corners of Malfoy's eyes. "Yes, most would." Malfoy agreed.

That was when Harry realized he was a lot closer to Malfoy now than he had been at the beginning of their conversation and that was how Salazar was able to get behind him. It was suddenly a lot more alarming that he hadn't noticed his own self moving than it was he hadn't noticed The Keeper moving. Salazar's hands flexed on Harry's arms. " _Carefully now. Pay attention._ "

"You find your interest drawn toward other things then?" Malfoy relented after a moment. What he was really asking was if Harry's opinions and ideals might not be strictly Gryffindor and he was also subtly asking if Harry had really cheated to enter the tournament or not. Or he was asking those things if you knew how to listen tot he silent conversation, to the words not spoken yet implied with their absence.

Harry tilted his head just as Salazar often did to him when he wanted something, widening his eyes a bit and smiling. "I find interest in things my fellow Gryffindors might not notice if it isn't pointed out to them and even them perhaps not at all. I am a bit of a rebel, I think."

"Oh? Glory and adventure before an audience doesn't appeal to your Gryffindor instincts? You must have some at least." Malfoy countered. The boy's arms were uncrossed now, settled at his sides.

Harry flashed him a grin. "The sort of glory and adventure my house mates strive for differ toward my preferences though I do have a fondness for such things. I, however, have an entirely different audience in mind." There, let's see what he makes of that then.

Malfoy's eyes, which were of a light enough blue they often seemed colourless, glinted. "Are you...playing?" He said it in a hushed sort of way, as if he wasn't quite certain he wanted to waste the effort if it wasn't true yet his curiosity wouldn't allow him to pass the chance to find out.

 _"The others are coming."_ The Keeper whispered. Long fingers pulled on the fabric of the back of Harry's shirt, indicating a direction to move away.

He tilted his head the other way both to show Salazar he had heard him and to give the appearance of listening. "Haven't I always?" Harry waited until Malfoy opened his mouth to respond. "Places everyone." Harry mocked, cutting across whatever the blonde might have said.

What would he make of that then? Would he assume Harry had always been playing all the time? Carefully Harry walked backward in slow, lazy steps until his back hit the wall. He slid to the ground and sat to wait for class to begin. Only breaking eye contact with Malfoy when Parkinson and Zabini reached their friend.

That was actually...fun.

Beside him an invisible wizard gave an odd sound somewhere between a purr and a growl.

Flitwick showed up not long after that and the class filed into the room. Harry chose a seat toward the back. It was as he removed his book from his bag and place it on the floor between his feet that Harry's stomach dropped. Salazar wasn't beside him. In fact, he wasn't anywhere. Harry looked around as best he could without alerting anyone to his panic. Where had he _gone_? Was he wondering the castle on his own? Harry should have ordered him to stay within a certain distance of himself. What would he get up to without Harry there? Oh, Lord.

His fears were unfounded it seemed. Along the pages of the book as he read along with the class, something peculiar happened. A small drawing of what was obviously meant to be Salazar materialized in the margins. At first, Harry thought, wildly, that someone had discovered his secret and was trying to blackmail him. Then the drawing 'spoke' to him with little text bubbles hovering over it. Salazar Slytherin was _in_ his book.

What was with Slytherins and desecrating literature?

 _Honestly._

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2016**

* * *

 **Notes:** Salazar is a guilty pleasure to write.

 **Parts of this chapter were expanded and a part at the end was removed and placed into the next chapter to help with flow. I will post a note at the beginning of the next chapter as well as a reminder as soon as it is posted.**

 **AN:** Thoughts, Questions, Guesses, Comments, Theories and Limericks always welcome.

 **ANx2:** Any guesses as to The Keeper's motivations in this chapter?

 **ANx3:** The response to this story is both surprising and pleasing. **Thank you** for reading this far, and if you would like to see where this goes don't forget to let me know.

-Pseu

* * *

oOoOoOo

 ** _*"_** _Who's a friend? Who's an enemy?_ _Because sometimes they look the same to me, b_ _ut looks can be pleasing, yet so deceiving..._

 _Sweet words from a serpent's tongue, it's like playing with a loaded gun!_ ** _"*_**

oOoOoOo


	5. Chapter 5

~ ***** PSEU ***** ~

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity : Rise!**

* * *

 ** _*"_** _Truth is harder than a lie, The dark seems safer than the light_  
 _I'm a mess and so are you_  
 _We've built walls nobody can get through **...**_ ** _"*_**

* * *

 **Summary:** A basilisk wasn't the only thing Hogwarts kept locked away for centuries. Revolution. Anarchist!Harry. Morally Ambiguous.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter **,** and **Salazar Slytherin-ish**

 **Warnings:** Morally Ambiguous. I can provide further warnings if necessary, feel free to suggest them and I shall take them into consideration.

 **Contains:** Questionable Alliances, Magical Theory, Tested Loyalties, Tough Moral Choices, Deception as an Art, Political Maneuvering, Conspiracy, Plotting, Blatant Manipulation, Unexpected Backstabbing, Emotional Warfare, Flaws and Vices, Temptation, Mistakes, Inconvenient Truths, Blackmail, Bribery, Mental and Emotional Torture, Lying by Omission, Revolution, Rebellion, Wizarding Laws, Magical Creatures, Propaganda, Historical Fact Checking, Poison, Split Personalities, Attempted Exorcism, Anarchy

 **AN:** Originally this was a one shot written for a contest.

 **ANx2** : The last chapter was edited, with an expansion on some information and some scenes added or cut. You may recognize some of the material that once belonged to the previous chapter within this one, as it was moved to this one to help with flow, and redone to better suit what comes later.

 **ANx3:** Thoughts, Comments, Questions, Theories, Guesses and Limericks always appreciated.

 **Ever Yours, PSEU**

* * *

 _ **"** 'Cause I need an interventionist to intervene between me and this monster_

 _And save me from myself and all this conflict_

 _'Cause the very thing that I love is killing me and I can't conquer it_

 _Keep knocking, nobody is home, I'm sleepwalking_

 _I'm just relaying what the voice in my head is saying, don't shoot the messenger_

 _I'm just friends with the..._

 _I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed, Get along with the voices inside of my head_

 _You're trying to save me? Stop holding your breath_

 _And you think I'm crazy, yeah you think I'm crazy, I'm_

 _I'm friends with the monster **."**_

 **-** Monster

* * *

 **Chapter Five: The Observation**

* * *

Classbegan as most do.

Professor Flitwick gave them an idea of what they'd be working on for the next few weeks as well as the topics they'd be covering until the end of turn. Their opposite would, of course, be covered in the following term. For instance, in first year they'd learned to make a feather levitate, moved into further physical manipulations of its movements and then spent the last half of the year before test review learning immobilizing charms. How to keep something right where you wanted it. This announcement would be followed by a demonstration of what they would learn, some class discussion and an assigned essay or reading. The following week they would have practicals and attempt to perform what they had learned. It was a similar formula in all of their classes.

Today it went a little differently.

In Harry's defense, he was completely distracted by an infuriating ink drawing taunting him within his own textbook. It was an odd feeling to be betrayed by one's school supplies. Betrayed he was none the less as his distraction did not continue unnoticed.

"Mister Potter, thank you for volunteering." Came a cheerful voice.

Harry snapped up quick enough he felt it in his neck. "Sir?"

The diminutive professor motioned him to stand with a small smile on his face. It was a very good thing he hadn't been caught out in Snape's class, Harry shuddered. With resignation -he didn't have a damn clue what their topic was as he had not been listening- Harry slid out from the bench and stood on the stair in the middle isle. Charms class was always arranged as if they were in a university auditorium with seating raised up a bit in levels from the main floor to the ending branches about ten feet higher. Harry supposed it was to enable to the professor to see all of his students without having to resort to something unprofessional in regard to his height.

Flitwick clapped his hands together in excitement. It didn't make him tense in suspicion the way he often did whenever Salazar performed exactly the same action.

"I am going to perform a series of actions Potter, and I would like you to pay very close attention. Can you do that for me?"

Harry nodded. That didn't sound too hard.

First Flitwick put a hand into one of his robe pockets, pulling out an orb which he placed on the long table before him on the main floor. The professor stood and appeared to study the orb for a minute,t hen he picked it up once more and held it out over the floor to his right. He released it. The orb fell to the floor and shattered. The moment it broke a ringing, metallic sound clanged out. Several people winced or covered their ears. It was an awful sound no doubt, however, having heard the sound of an ancient staircase crumbling fifty feet or so onto a hard stone floor int he middle of highly acoustic cavern...to say the least harry was somewhat immune to loud noises at this point. Flitwick waved his wand and the noise cut off as the many pieces of the orb disappeared. The small professor cocked his head as if thinking. His hand whipped out toward a high shelf on the left-hand side of the room just be the door.

 _"Accio!"_ Flitwick shouted.

An orb similar in appearance to the previous lifted from the shelf and came flying to the professor. Flitwick held out a hand, snatching it from the air as Harry might a snitch. He set it on the table and left it there. Apparently, this orb would not meet the fate of its predecessor. Flitwick looked about the classroom. He focused on a student in the front. A witch Harry didn't know the name of.

"Can you place something on your table I won't have come into contact with before?" Flitwick inquired politely. "Preferably something similar in some fashion to elements I have already used this lesson."

Harry could not see her expression from here but she seemed game enough. The witch bent over after a moment of thought and pulled something out of her book bag. When she placed it on the table before her Harry recognized it. He had never had one himself but Dudley received one once for his birthday. An eight ball. Or a magic eight ball as the muggles called it. Aunt Petunia was most upset when Dudley unwrapped it and made him get rid of it. Dudley -being the spoilt child he was- simply hid it away in his room of broken things. It was there Harry played with it occasionally when he dared.

He wondered whatever became of it. It certainly wasn't still there when he was moved from his cupboard into that very room after he turned eleven.

"Very good, thank you." Harry blinked and focused back on his teacher. He was meant to be watching after all.

Professor Flitwick whipped his wand out once more. _"Accio!"_

It was said with a more forceful nature than the last time he'd performed the spell, Harry noted. The eight ball moved toward him at a rather lazy pace in Harry's opinion. He flew to the professor quick enough but it just didn't seem as if it much wanted to. How silly was that, though? An inanimate object didn't have desires. So, if it wasn't the eight ball which didn't want to go to the professor...maybe it was the witch? Harry frowned. She'd seemed fine with participating so that couldn't be it either.

"Can anyone describe the demonstration?" Flitwick asked, rocking on his heels a bit as he was one to do when excited.

It surprised no one when an arm shot into the air before the professor finished his sentence. A head of unruly hair in a colour somewhere between red and brown shook with mingled interest and impatience. No one else bothered to raise their hand. Everyone knew Hermione -bless her- wasn't one for leaving off information for rest of them to use. "Please sir, you performed two summoning spells and I believe vanished the remains of the orb you shattered. One object from ten feet away at the wall and another foreign object twenty feet away. The incantation is accio, and it is used to bring to the caster an object already in existence rather than conjure it as with the water charm. It will bring to you nearly any object within a reasonable distance that you can visualize and whose location you are aware. It does not have to be precise to be effective though it helps, your will for it to come when you call should help any hindrance received from a lack of complete information."

She finished with a slight gasp at the end. Harry would be impressed she managed to go that long without breathing if he wasn't already used to it. She could have been an Olympic swimmer in another life.

"Yes, well done Miss Granger." Flitwick praised. "A good overview of what happened. Did anyone see anything else?"

Several students glanced at one another in surprise. It wasn't often Hermione's answer wasn't good enough. To Harry's horror, Flitwick chose this moment to remember Harry and the assignment he'd given him. "Mister Potter?"

Harry inclined his head, clearing his mind and adopting a neutral expression as he did. "Sir?"

"At the beginning of my demonstration, I requested for you to _observe_. Did you?" There was something off to his tone of voice. But what was it?

"I did sir," Harry responded, careful to keep his voice steady and polite.

Flitwick's eyes were shining too much not to be suspicious. "And would you share with the class what you have _observed_?"

Why was he inflecting so much on the word observe? oh. Harry blinked. Perhaps his earlier observations in the Grat Hall had not gone unnoticed. It would appear his charms professor had taken note of them and sought to use his skill for the purposes of his class. What did he want him to see? Hermione had stated the obvious and normally that was all the professors -well meaning as most of them may be- every bothered to require of them outside of essays and tests where more detailed explanations were warranted. What did the professor hope to gain from this?

Green eyes flickered down to his text to see if Salazar had anything helpful to share. There in the bubble above his little drawing of himself The Keeper had the words **familiarity** and **ownership**. Well, what did that even...oh he saw it now. Harry already knew how to summon of course. Salazar taught it to him. Quickly Harry visualized first his lessons with Salazar on this very subject and ones relating to it, and then he replayed the demonstration in his head as slowly as he dared. Finally Harry lifted his eyes to his professor and gave a nod. The rest of the class had turned at some point to stare at him.

"You placed a recording on your desk." Said Harry. "Quartz orbs are useful because they can be used to store delayed effect magics. Or a specific temporary, situation based spell activated within certain parameters. Like a door that only opens if you're wearing red or say a certain phrase." Harry thought of the chamber he spent the weekend in. "It isn't that it is locked really, or anything, its effect is in a sort of stasis without the proper activation protocol." He stumbled a bit over the terminology, doing his best to remember how Salazar phrased it and then summarize it in his own words.

"You used this one to contain a recording. After you studied it you broke it. Then you summoned another one identical in appearance, if not in recording or use, from the shelf over there." Harry pointed. "It came to you quickly. It is my _observation_ that you studied the orb before you broke it because you placed both of them in their places before class began. It has been nearly an hour since then so it's been a while since you were in any actual contact with them. Once you had a visualization of the orb you summoned its twin to you." Harry took a breath. "Then you summoned an object you were even less familiar with. Because of this, that object did not come as quickly as the other, though not in any really noticeable sort of way if you weren't looking for it. I think..."

He paused. Flitwick gave him a wide smile and a nod to continue. "I think this is a result of both your not knowing the object on your own -like you would if you had at least held it before or if it belonged to you or you had one of your own- as well as the residual magic of the object's owner being unwilling to let the object come in to you possession. Nothing personal, her magic just knew you were not its proper owner even if you had its owners permission to have it. I think she may also have worried you would break her eight ball Professor."

Some of the students laughed. The witch in question flushed and mumbled a sorry to Flitwick who didn't seem bothered in the least by his students worry for her possessions. "And what do you conclude Mister Potter?"

He thought for a moment before answering. He knew the answer. The Keeper had gone over it with him after all. He felt a bit guilty. He was sort of cheating, wasn't he? After all, they didn't know he already knew the information. To them he was coming up with this stuff at the top off his head. In reality, he'd barely survived a crash course in magical theory via one of the founders themselves. Not exactly fair. Still.

It might be fun to show off. Just once.

Enthusiastic. Wit. Think like your audience.

"Your familiarity," Harry began, "with the object or objects in question directly affect your ability to perform the spell to satisfaction, in correlation with the ownership of said objects. If I was holding something and you attempted to summon it from me without knowing what it was -and without my permission as well- it would be...difficult. Your unfamiliarity with what you were trying to summon along with my magic's refusal could result in the spell's connection being weak enough I would have time to raise a shield to interrupt it, and the spell would then fail." Dueling sessions with Salazar flashed through his mind.

"The strength of your core and your desire to have the item in your possession have an effect as well, as does your knowledge of the objects' location. Similarly, more advanced transfigurations -yeah that is another class but I think this is still relevant to my reasoning- lean heavily on your intimate knowledge of both the object you want to change and the object you want to change it into. Like turning a matchstick into a needle in first year. This is why the animagus transformation is restricted to those who are of age. It requires an extreme focus and dedication that is hard to cultivate in younger witches and wizards, especially with things like tests and teenage angst as distractions in the background." Some people snickered.

"It is also easier to restore...complications...that may arise with stronger, settled cores than in those whose cores have yet to fully develop or are still in process of settling. Familiarity and ownership are very important elements to the use of magic and you demonstrated both. Oh and you banished the orbs pieces. It is not the same as vanishing." He flicked his eyes to Hermione in apology. "A banished item can always be unbanished. When you've vanished something it's gone." Harry stopped there, feeling as if he had spoken far too much. He did not think he had ever spoken so much in class in all the years he was at school. Magical or nonmagical.

Flitwick gave a delighted squeal. "Well done Mister Potter. I knew I was right to choose you for an assistant. Ten points to Gryffindor. Well reasoned indeed."

Ten Points? Really?

A smile pulled at his lips.

"...want all of you to think very hard about what we've learned today. Fifteen inches on the theory and its implications, as well as the incantations and movements for summoning and banishing by next Monday if you please. We will pick up again on Thursday. Dismissed."

Harry packed his things as fast as he could without looking as though he were fleeing and darted toward the door. There were too many stares for him to feel comfortable. As he left the class he found himself between two unlikely people. Zabini, a tall boy with dark olive skin and honey coloured eyes, stood at Harry's left with a grip on his elbow. He glanced sideways at Harry, angling Him toward the other side of the hallway. Ominously, opposite the way the other Gryffindors were going. Alarmed -what Gryffindor wouldn't be?- Harry allowed himself to be towed along, mind racing to figure out what he may have done to cause such an action from a school mate Harry could honestly say he had not spoken to once. In front of them leading the way was a girl with collar length brown hair. Parkinson, Harry's mind supplied. And there was Malfoy waiting.

When he was deposited in front of him Harry raised a brow.

Malfoy lifted and dropped one shoulder. "I apologize. My friends are heathens."

Parkinson took offense to this with an indignant huff. Zabini, however, was entirely unaffected. Perhaps he was used to Malfoy at this point, or maybe he just didn't care what anyone thought of him. "I only re-accounted our earlier interaction, at their insistence as they saw us together when they were approaching, and they decided you would welcome advances from them. Your little show in class only strengthened their curiosity I am afraid." He gave a 'what can you do' facial expression.

Harry didn't buy it for once moment. If Malfoy had an issue with anything his friends did he would only need to say so. If they got away with dragging him over it was either because Malfoy wanted them to or Malfoy was curious what they would do. Harry couldn't call him out on it, though. He was playing now. He had to think his actions through more carefully.

Parkinson took that moment to twirl around. When Salazar did it, it was a little impressive, with all of his swirling silks. When Parkinson did it, it was abrupt and demanding. "And do you?" She crossed her arms.

Wasn't she just the impatient one? Harry was inclined to walk away. He didn't have to answer their questions. The only one he insinuated he was interested in playing with was Malfoy. If his little minions wanted to play they'd have to play for themselves. They weren't important. Playing with them was pointless unless he got something out of it. He supposed he could always use them for practice. Harry didn't know enough about either of them to decide if it would be wise to do so. They were of course in The Game already but he had started a game with Malfoy. A specific one. Maybe this was part of Malfoy's game?

Warmth ran down his arms. Harry stiffened. He could him, The Keeper, right behind him. Where had he gone anyway?

 _"Ask. You know how."_

He asked lightly, "Do I what? Welcome your advances?"

The Slytherin girl flushed. "I mean to say, are you adverse to communication with Slytherins? Because up until now you didn't seem all interested in playing with us."

Salazar whispered low in his ear. _"As if we want to play with **her**. Are you going to allow her to speak to you this way little snake? I think not. She seems to believe she is above us in the food chain. Alleviate her of this notion."_

Harry gave a slow nod, keeping his face blank. "Oh. Yes, that would make more sense. I welcome communication with _most_ people if it isn't obvious I'd rather be alone at the time and that communication is of the positive or neutral topics within social or academic realms. Of course there are always _some_ people I'd rather didn't both attempting to communicate with me. We can't all of us enjoy the company of everyone we meet you know. I do at times wish certain _individuals_ would take a hint and leave me. All together -however- I can say with the utmost sincerity that I am not disinclined to aqueous attempts to converse." Laying it on a bit thick but hey, the bint had asked for it.

He could feel Salazar laughing quietly. Long fingers ran through Harry's hair. Harry couldn't see it but he knew The Keeper was smiling.

It had been a perfectly polite response from the outside looking in. Harry's tone nearly empty of inflection. He could have been reciting potions ingredients for all the lack of care he seemed to have. Most importantly it showed he thought very little of her in her entirety. It implied he couldn't fathom why she was even speaking to him. Not in a way to say he didn't think she would want to, but in a way to say she didn't have much of a claim to demand his attention. That he found her unimportant, not worth his time and was in fact at this very moment wasting it. He implied this politely though.

Parkinson blinked. Her face blanked, her posture stiffened. _Finally._ Her mask would be tiresome if he had to spend much time around her. He knew -in the back of his mind- that all masks presented by anyone playing The Game had to be considered carefully with the knowledge that they were nearly in their entirety false. They could have elements of truth in them, yet the purpose of them was a way to interact with the world in a manner which suited your desire without having to give the world the truth of yourself. Doing so while playing The Game would end in losing. Losing the game was worse than simply not playing at all. _Everyone_ was playing, though. It didn't matter if they knew there was a game in play or the rules or anything else. Everyone was playing. That's how The Game worked.

Actively playing? That was entirely different. Now that Harry had shown -to Malfoy anyway- that he was, in fact, an active player he realized he might have to deal with equally annoying masks of a similar caliber in the future. How tiresome. And _damn_ when did his inner dialogue start sounding so much like Salazar?

"That means yes." Harry supplied when it appeared she was at a loss for how to respond.

Her mouth fell open in shock.

Then Malfoy grinned. An actual, honest-to-goodness wide smile showing all of his too-white teeth, eyes crinkling around the edges and he _laughed._ Harry kept his face neutral. On the inside, he was gaping. Who the hell knew Malfoys even knew how to do that? Clear-blue eyes, shining and warm, locked on Harry. The blonde strode forward, slipped his arm around Harry's and started down the hall. Still laughing. Perplexed, and entirely out of his depth, Harry allowed Malfoy to lead him toward their next class. Salazar skipped along beside him, amused to no end of this development. When the blonde turned to him now and then, inquiring something inane about classes or his schedule, Harry nodded and gave an answer as required. He appeared to have passed some sort of test.

He winced. When did he start collecting Slytherins?

As if he needed any more!

Malfoy steered him through the door of the classroom like he strolled the halls with Harry every day. He sat beside him in the last two spot available. Parkinson and Zabini were already inside Harry noted. How they got there before he and Malfoy Harry didn't know. He could feel Hermione and Ron, along with the rest of class, staring at him. Malfoy lifted his book bag and took out his text. Mechanically Harry copied him. What use was it to make sense of anything when you were in wonderland, anyway?

It clicked.

"You used me to get rid of her."

Malfoy didn't seem at all repentant. "And you did so wonderfully. She saw us talking and would not leave me alone about it. I nearly hexed her in class. How _can_ I hear anything if she keeps prattling my ear? It was beautiful Harry." The blonde kept a pleasant expression on his face. His shoulders were stiff Harry noted. A slight crease between his fair brows. Oh. He used Harry's given name and was waiting to see if such an attempt at familiarity would be reciprocated or rejected. Harry mused the ramifications of all of his possible responses. For whatever reason, Malfoy had decided he'd found a kindred spirit in Harry. God knows how he came to that conclusion. The thing with Parkinson and Zabini had been a test. As Parkinson was the victim he could only assume Zabini was in on it.

On one hand, Harry didn't care to be that familiar with Malfoy. One Slytherin was already proving to be more than he could handle. On the other hand, it was Malfoy. The thought of having someone he could play with in an amiable sort of way sounded great. It wasn't Salazar and it wasn't someone he cared for either. So if he messed up who cared? He could use him to perfect his game. Malfoy was taught this sort of thing from birth and he would have access to information about other players that Harry would not. He couldn't allow the boy to become any sort of actual friend or companion. He simply couldn't _afford_ anyone finding out about The Keeper. An ally of a sort, though. That could be useful. Because Salazar was right. Harry desired his freedom more than anything and in order to get it, he needed control over his life. Someone like Malfoy could help to provide those connections. It would be a tentative alliance. A temporary one more than likely. But beneficial. If was going to be collecting strays he may as well make use of them. Build himself some support.

He fancied he could feel his inner Gryffindor trying to _strangle_ its self to get away from all the Slytherin oozing out of him.

"I shall keep that in mind the next time you need to be entertained Draco."

Harry spent the rest of the class steadily ignoring the looks of his classmates. He took notes, hissed to Salazar when The Keeper required a response and tried his best to act as if every thing was as it should be.

Too pale blue eyes flickered over to the dark haired Gryffindor without his notice.

Observing.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2016**

* * *

 **Notes:** Salazar is a guilty pleasure to write.

 **AN:** Thoughts, Questions, Guesses, Comments, Theories and Limericks always welcome.

 **ANx2:** Two important things happened in this chapter, did you notice them?

 **ANx3:** The response to this story is both surprising and pleasing. **Thank you** for reading this far, and if you would like to see where this goes don't forget to let me know.

-Pseu

* * *

oOoOoOo

 ** _*"_** But I'm not the villain, despite what you're always preaching **-** Call me a traitor, I'm just collecting your victims ** _..._** ** _"*_**

oOoOoOo


End file.
